i 


C 


r 


THE  ORPHAN 


i 


'  She  unfastened  the  gold  breast-pin  which  she  wore  at  her  throat 
and  pinned  the  bandage  into  place."     (See  page  95.) 


THE  ORPHAN 


BY 


CLARENCE    E.    MULFORD 


Author  of  "BAR-20" 


ILLUSTRATIONS  IN  COLOR  BT  ALLEN  TRUE 


NEW  YORK 

THE  OUTING  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 
MCMVIII 


COPYRIGHT,   1908,  BY 
THE  OUTING  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


Entered  at  Stationers'   Hall,  London,  England 


All  rights  reserved 


AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED  TO 
MY  MOTHER 


M818946 


96  I 

U9S 
orp 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I   THE  SHERIFF  RIDES  TO  WAR        ...       3 
II   CONCERNING  AN  ARROW         .         .         .         .     14 

III  THE  SHERIFF  FINDS  THE  ORPHAN          .         .     33 

IV  THE  SECOND  OFFENSE 45 

V   BILL  JUSTIFIES  HIS  CREATION        .         .         .60 

VI  THE  ORPHAN  OBEYS  AN  IMPULSE  .     80 

VII  THE  OUTFIT  HUNTS  FOR  STRAYS   .         .  .104 

VIII  "A  TIMBER  WOLF  IN  HIS  OWN  COUNTRY"  .    125 

IX  THE  CROSS  BAR-8  LOSES  SLEEP    .         .  .131 

X  THE  ORPHAN  PAYS  Two  CALLS     .         .  .147 

XI     A   VOICE    FROM   THE   GALLERY  .  .173 

XII    A  NEW  DEAL  ALL  AROUND  .         .         .         .193 

XIII  THE  STAR  C  GIVES  WELCOME       .         .         .  210 

XIV  THE  SHERIFF  STATES  SOME  FACTS         .         .  240 
XV  AN  UNDERSTANDING 266 

XVI   THE  FLYING-MARE 284 

XVII   THE  FEAST .299 

XVIII   PREPARATION 325 

XIX   THE  ORPHAN  GOES  TO  THE  A-Y    .         .         .340 

XX   BILL  ATTENDS  THE  PICNIC    .         .         .         .  352 

XXI   THE  ANNOUNCEMENT    .  ...  368 

XXII   TEX  WILLIARD'S  MISTAKE     .         .         .         -375 

XXIII  THE  GREAT  HAPPINESS         .         .         .         -392 

ix 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

She  unfastened  the  gold  breast-pin  which  she  wore  at  her 
throat  and  pinned  the  bandage  into  place  "...  Frontispiece 


FACING 
PAGE 


"  «  The   less    you    count    the    longer    you'll    live!'    said 

Shields"  .................................    *92 

The  Orphan  gives  Blake  Shields'  note   ...............    214 

««  The  Orphan  stepped  back  a  pace  and  dropped  the  Colt 

into  its  holster  "  .  .  .....................    39° 


THE    ORPHAN 


THE   ORPHAN 

CHAPTER    I 

THE    SHERIFF   RIDES   TO   WAR 

MANY  men  swore  that  The  Orphan  was 
bad,  and  many  swore  profanely  and  with 
wonderful  command  of  epithets  because 
he  was  bad,  but  for  obvious  reasons  that  was  as 
far  as  the  majority  went  to  show  their  displeasure. 
Those  of  the  minority  who  had  gone  farther  and 
who  had  shown  their  hatred  by  rash  actions  only 
proved  their  foolishness ;  for  they  had  indeed  gone 
far  and  would  return  no  more. 

Tradition  had  it  that  The  Orphan  was  a  mon 
grel,  a  half-breed,  asserting  that  his  mother  had 
been  a  Sioux  with  negro  blood  in  her  veins.  It 
also  asserted  that  his  father  had  been  nominated 
and  unanimously  elected,  by  a  posse,  to  an  elevated 
position  under  a  tree;  and  further,  that  The 
Orphan  himself  had  been  born  during  a  cloud- 

3 


T h e   Orphan 


burst  at  midnight  on  the  thirteenth  of  the  month. 
The  latter  was  from  the  Mexicans,  who  found 
great  delight  in  making  such  terrifying  combina 
tions  of  ill  luck. 

But  tradition  was  strongly  questioned  as  to  his 
mother,  for  how  could  the  son  of  such  a  mother 
be  possessed  of  the  dare-devil  courage  and  grit 
which  had  made  his  name  a  synonym  of  terror? 
This  contention  was  well  stated  and  is  borne  out, 
for  it  can  be  authoritatively  said  that  the  mother 
of  The  Orphan  was  white,  and  had  neither  Indian 
nor  negro  blood  in  her  veins,  but  on  the  contrary 
came  from  a  family  of  gentlefolk.  Thus  I  start 
aright  by  refuting  slander.  The  Orphan  was 
white,  his  profanity  blue,  and  his  anger  red,  and 
having  started  aright,  I  will  continue  with  the 
events  which  led  to  the  discovery  of  his  innate 
better  qualities  and  their  final  ascendency  over  the 
savagely  hard  nature  which  circumstances  had 
bred  in  him.  These  events  began  on  the  day  when 
James  Shields,  for  reasons  hereinafter  set  forth, 
became  actively  interested  in  his  career. 

Shields,  by  common  consent  Keeper  of  the  Law 
over  a  territory  as  large  as  the  State  of  New  Jersey 
and  whom  out  of  courtesy  I  will  call  sheriff,  was 

4 


The  Sheriff  Rides  to  War 


no  coward,  and  neither  was  he  a  fool;  and  when 
word  came  to  him  that  The  Orphan  had  made  a 
mess  of  two  sheep  herders  near  the  U  Bend  of  the 
Limping  Water  Creek,  he  did  not  forthwith  pace 
the  street  and  inform  the  citizens  of  Ford's  Sta 
tion  that  he  was  about  to  start  on  a  journey  which 
had  for  its  object  the  congratulation  of  The 
Orphan  at  long  range.  Upon  occasions  his  taci 
turnity  became  oppressive,  especially  when  grave 
dangers  or  tense  situations  demanded  concentra 
tion  of  thought.  The  more  he  thought  the  less 
he  talked,  the  one  notable  exception  being  when 
stirred  to  righteous  anger  by  personal  insults,  in 
which  case  his  words  flowed  smoothly  along  one 
channel  while  his  thoughts  gripped  a  single  idea. 
To  his  acquaintances  he  varied  as  the  mood 
directed,  often  saying  practically  nothing  for 
hours,  and  at  other  times  discoursing  volubly.  One 
thing,  a  word  of  his,  had  become  proverbial — when 
Shields  said  "  Hell !  "  he  was  in  no  mood  for  pleas 
antries,  and  the  third  repetition  of  the  word  meant 
red,  red  anger.  He  was  a  man  of  strong  person 
ality,  who  loved  his  friends  in  staunch,  unswerving 
loyalty;  and  he  tolerated  his  enemies  until  the  last 
ditch  had  been  reached. 

5 


The  Orphan 


He,  like  The  Orphan,  was  essentially  a  humorist 
in  the  finest  definition  of  the  term,  inasmuch  as  he 
could  find  humor  in  the  worst  possible  situations. 
He  was  even  now  forcibly  struck  with  the  humor 
of  his  contemplated  ride,  for  The  Orphan  would 
be  so  very  much  surprised  to  see  him.  He  could 
picture  the  expression  of  weary  toleration  which 
would  grace  the  outlaw's  face  over  the  sights,  and 
he  chuckled  inwardly  as  he  thought  of  how  The 
Orphan  would  swear.  He  did  his  shooting  as  an 
unavoidable  duty,  a  business,  a  stern  necessity;  and 
he  took  great  delight  in  its  accuracy.  When  he 
shot  at  a  man  he  did  it  with  becoming  gravity,  but 
nevertheless  he  radiated  pride  and  cheerfulness 
when  he  hit  the  man's  nose  or  eye  or  Adam's  apple 
at  a  hundred  yards.  All  the  time  he  knew  that  the 
man  ought  to  die,  that  it  was  a  case  of  necessity, 
and  this  explains  why  he  was  so  pleased  about  the 
eye  or  nose  or  Adam's  apple. 

With  The  Orphan  popular  opinion  said  it  was 
far  different;  that  his  humor  was  ghastly,  malevo 
lent,  murderous;  that  he  shot  to  kill  with  the  same 
gravity,  but  that  it  was  that  of  icy  determination, 
chilling  ferocity.  He  was  said  to  be  methodical 
in  the  taking  of  innocent  life,  even  more  accurate 

6 


The  Sheriff  Rides  to  Wai 


than  the  sheriff,  wily  and  shrewd  as  the  leader  of  a 
wolf-pack,  and  equally  relentless.  The  Orphan 
was  looked  upon  as  an  abnormal  development  of 
the  idea  of  destruction;  the  sheriff,  a  corrective 
force,  and  almost  as  strong  as  the  evil  he  would 
endeavor  to  overcome.  The  two  came  as  near  to 
the  scientists'  little  joke  of  the  irresistible  force 
meeting  the  immovable  body  as  can  be  found  in 
human  agents. 

So  Shields,  upon  hearing  of  The  Orphan's  latest 
manifestation  of  humor,  appreciated  the  joke  to 
the  fullest  extent  and  made  up  his  mind  to  play  a 
similar  one  on  the  frisky  outlaw.  He  could  not 
help  but  sympathize  with  The  Orphan,  because 
every  man  knew  what  pests  the  sheepmen  were, 
and  Shields,  at  one  time  a  cowman,  was  naturally 
prejudiced  against  sheep.  He  -was  exceedingly 
weary  of  having  to  guard  herds  of  bleating  grass- 
shavers  which  so  often  passed  across  his  domain, 
and  he  regarded  the  sheep-raising  industry  as  an 
unnecessary  evil  which  should  by  all  rights  be 
deported.  But  he  could  not  excuse  The  Orphan's 
crude  and  savage  idea  of  deportation.  The  sheriff 
was  really  kind-hearted,  and  he  became  angry  when 
he  thought  of  the  outlaw  driving  two  thousand 

7 


The   Orphan 


sheep  over  the  steep  bank  of  the  Limping  Water 
to  a  pitiful  death  by  drowning;  The  Orphan 
should  have  been  satisfied  in  messing  up  the 
anatomy  of  the  herders.  He  did  not  like  a  glutton, 
and  he  would  tell  the  outlaw  so  in  his  own  way. 

He  walked  briskly  through  his  yard  and  called 
to  his  wife  as  he  passed  the  house,  telling  her  that 
he  was  going  to  be  gone  for  an  indefinite  period, 
not  revealing  the  object  of  his  journey,  as  he  did  not 
wish  to  worry  her.  Accustomed  as  she  was  to  have 
him  face  danger,  she  had  a  loving  wife's  fear  for 
his  safety,  and  lost  many  hours'  sleep  while  he  was 
away.  He  took  his  rifle  from  where  it  leaned 
against  the  porch  and  continued  on  his  way  to  the 
small  corral  in  the  rear  of  the  yard,  where  two 
horses  whisked  flies  and  sought  the  shade.  Lead 
ing  one  of  them  outside,  he  deftly  slung  a  saddle 
to  its  back,  secured  the  cinches  and  put  on  a  light 
bridle.  Dropping  the  Winchester  into  its  saddle 
holster,  he  mounted  and  fought  the  animal  for  a 
few  minutes  just  as  he  always  had  to  fight  it.  He 
spun  the  cylinders  of  his  .45  Colts  and  ran  his 
fingers  along  the  under  side  of  his  belt  for  assur 
ance  as  to  ammunition.  Seeing  that  the  black 
leather  case  which  was  slung  from  the  pommel  of 

8 


The  Sheriff  Rides  to   War 


the  saddle  contained  his  field  glass  and  that  his 
canteen  was  full  of  water,  he  rode  to  the  back  door 
of  his  house,  where  his  wife  gave  him  a  bag  of 
food.  Promising  her  that  he  would  take  good  care 
of  himself  and  to  return  as  speedily  as  possible,  he 
cantered  through  the  gate  and  down  the  street 
toward  the  "  Oasis,"  the  door  of  which  was  always 
open.  Two  dogs  were  stretched  out  in  the  door 
way,  lazily  snapping  at  flies.  As  the  sheriff  drew 
rein  he  heard  snores  which  wheezed  from  the  bar 
room. 

"  Say,  Dan !  "  he  cried  loudly.    "  Dan !  " 

"  Shout  it  out,  Sheriff,"  came  the  response  from 
within  the  darkened  room,  and  the  bartender 
appeared  at  the  door. 

"  If  anybody  wants  me,  they  may  find  me  at 
Brent's;  I'm  going  out  that  way,"  the  sheriff  said, 

as  he  loosened  the  reins.  "  Bite,  d n  you,"  he 

growled  at  his  horse. 

"  All  right,  Jim,"  sleepily  replied  the  bartender, 
watching  the  peace  officer  as  he  cantered  briskly 
down  the  street.  He  yawned,  stretched  and  re 
turned  to  his  chair,  there  to  doze  lightly  as  long 
as  he  might. 

Shields  usually  left  word  at  the  Oasis  as  to  where 

9 


The   Orphan 


he  might  be  found  in  case  he  should  be  badly 
needed,  but  in  this  instance  he  had  left  word  where 
he  could  not  be  found  if  needed.  He  cantered  out 
of  the  town  over  the  trail  which  led  to  Brent's  ranch 
and  held  to  it  until  he  had  put  great  enough  dis 
tance  behind  to  assure  him  that  he  was  out  of  sight 
of  any  curious  citizen  of  Ford's  Station.  Then  he 
wheeled  abruptly  as  he  reached  the  bottom  of  an 
arroyo  and  swung  sharply  to  the  northeast  at  a 
right  angle  to  his  former  course  and  pushed  his 
mount  at  a  lope  around  the  chaparrals  and  cacti, 
all  the  time  riding  more  to  the  east  and  in  the 
direction  of  the  U  Bend  of  the  Limping  Water. 
He  frowned  slightly  and  grumbled  as  he  estimated 
that  The  Orphan  would  have  nearly  three  hours' 
start  of  him  by  the  time  he  reached  his  objective, 
which  meant  a  long  chase  in  the  pursuit  of  such  a 
man. 

To  a  tenderfoot  the  heat  would  have  been  very 
oppressive,  even  dangerous,  but  the  sheriff  thought 
it  an  ideal  temperature  for  hunting.  He  smiled 
pleasantly  at  his  surroundings  and  was  pleased  by 
the  playful  vim  of  his  belligerent  pinto,  whose 
actions  were  not  in  the  least  intended  to  be  playful. 
When  the  animal  suddenly  turned  its  head  and 

10 


The  Sheriff  Rides  to  War 


nipped  hard  and  quick  at  the  sheriff's  legs,  getting 
a  mouthful  of  nasty  leather  and  seasoned  ash  for 
its  reward,  he  gleefully  kicked  the  pony  in  the  eye 
when  it  let  go,  and  then  rowelled  a  streak  of  per 
forations  in  its  ugly  hide  with  his  spurs  as  an 
encouragement.  The  ensuing  bucking  was  joy  to 
his  heart,  and  he  feared  that  he  might  eventually 
grow  to  like  the  animal. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  U  Bend  he  put  in  half 
an  hour  burying  the  human  butts  of  The  Orphan's 
joke,  for  the  perpetrator  liked  to  leave  his  trophies 
where  they  could  be  seen  and  appreciated.  Shields 
looked  sadly  at  the  dead  sheep,  said  "  Hell "  twice 
and  forded  the  stream,  picked  up  the  outlaw's  trail 
on  the  further  side  and  cantered  along  it.  The 
trail  was  very  plain  to  him,  straight  as  a  chalk  line, 
and  it  led  toward  the  northeast,  which  suited  the 
sheriff,  because  there  was  a  goodly  sized  water 
hole  twenty  miles  further  on  in  that  direction. 
Perhaps  he  would  find  The  Orphan  fortified  there, 
for  it  would  be  just  like  that  person  to  monopolize 
the  only  drinking  water  within  twenty  miles  and 
force  his  humorous  adversary  to  either  take  the 
hole  or  go  back  to  the  Limping  Water  for  a  drink. 
Anyway,  The  Orphan  would  get  awfully  soiled 

ii 


The   Orphan 


wallowing  about  in  the  mud  and  water,  and  he 
would  not  hurt  the  water  much  unless  he  lacked  the 
decency  to  bleed  on  the  bank.  Having  decided  to 
take  the  hole  in  preference  to  riding  back  to  the 
creek,  the  sheriff  immediately  dismissed  that  phase 
of  the  game  from  his  mind  and  fell  to  musing 
about  the  rumors  which  had  persistently  reiterated 
that  the  Apaches  were  out. 

Practical  joking  with  The  Orphan  and  inter 
fering  with  the  traveling  of  Apache  war  parties 
were  much  the  same  in  results,  so  the  sheriff  made 
up  his  mind  to  attend  to  the  lesser  matter,  if  need 
be,  after  he  had  quieted  the  man  he  was  following. 
Everybody  knew  that  Apaches  were  very  bad,  but 
that  The  Orphan  was  worse;  and,  besides,  the  lat 
ter  would  be  laughing  derisively  about  that  matter 
concerning  a  drink.  The  sheriff  grinned  and  rode 
happily  forward,  taking  pains,  however,  to  circle 
around  all  chaparrals  and  covers  of  every  nature, 
for  he  did  not  know  but  that  his  playful  enemy 
might  have  tired  of  riding  before  the  water  hole 
had  been  reached  and  decided  to  camp  out  under 
cover.  While  the  sheriff  was  unafraid,  he  had 
befitting  respect  for  the  quality  of  The  Orphan's 
marksmanship,  which  was  reputed  as  being  above 

12 


The  Sheriff  Rides  to  War 


reproach;  and  he  was  not  expected  to  determine 
offhand  whether  the  outlaw  was  above  lying  in 
ambush.  So  he  used  his  field  glass  constantly  in 
sweeping  covers  and  rode  forward  toward  the 
water  hole. 


CHAPTER    II 

CONCERNING   AN   ARROW 

THE  bleak  foreground  of  gray  soil,  cov 
ered  with  drifts  of  alkali  and  sand,  was 
studded  with  clumps  of  mesquite  and 
cacti  and  occasional  tufts  of  sun-burned  grass,  dusty 
and  somber,  while  a  few  sagebrush  blended  their 
leaves  to  the  predominating  color.  Back  of  this 
was  a  near  horizon  to  the  north  and  east,  brought 
near  by  the  sky-line  of  a  low,  undulating  range  of 
sand  hills  rising  from  the  desert  to  meet  a  faded 
sky.  The  morning  glow  brought  this  sky-line  into 
sharp  definition  as  the  dividing  line  between  the 
darkness  of  the  plain  in  the  shadow  of  the  range 
and  the  fast  increasing  morning  light.  To  the 
south  and  west  the  plain  blended  into  the  sky,  and 
there  was  no  horizon. 

Two  trails  met  and  crossed  near  a  sand-buffeted 
bowlder  of  lava  stone,  which  was  huge,  grotesque 
and  forbidding  in  its  bulky  indistinctness.  The 


Concerning  an  Arrow 


first  of  the  trails  ran  north  and  south  and  was  faint 
but  plainly  discernible,  being  beaten  a  trifle  below 
the  level  of  the  desert  and  forming  a  depression 
which  the  winds  alternately  filled  and  emptied  of 
dust;  and  its  arrow-like  directness,  swerving  neither 
to  the  right  nor  left,  bespoke  of  the  haste  which 
urged  the  unfortunate  traveler  to  have  done  with 
it  as  speedily  as  possible,  since  there  was  nothing 
alluring  along  its  heat-cursed  course  to  bid  him 
tarry  in  his  riding.  There  was  yet  another  reason 
for  haste,  for  the  water  holes  were  over  fifty  miles 
apart,  and  in  that  country  water  holes  were  more 
or  less  uncertain  and  doubtful  as  to  being  free  from 
mineral  poisons.  On  the  occasions  when  the 
Apaches  awoke  to  find  that  many  of  their  young 
men  were  missing,  and  a  proved  warrior  or  two, 
this  trail  become  weighted  with  possibilities,  for 
this  desert  was  the  playground  of  war  parties,  an 
unlimited  ante-room  for  the  preliminaries  to  preda 
tory  pilgrimages;  and  the  northern  trail  then  par 
took  of  the  nature  of  a  huge  wire  over  which  played 
an  alternating  current,  the  potentials  of  which  were 
the  ranges  at  one  end  and  the  savagery  and  war 
spirit  of  the  painted  tribes  at  the  other:  and  the 
voltage  was  frequently  deadly. 

15 


The   Orphan 


The  other  trail,  crossing  the  first  at  right  angles, 
led  eastward  to  the  fertile  valleys  of  the  Canadian 
and  the  Cimarron;  westward  it  spread  out  like 
the  sticks  of  a  fan  to  anywhere  and  nowhere,  grad 
ually  resolving  itself  into  the  fainter  and  still  more 
faint  individual  paths  which  fed  it  as  single  strands 
feed  a  rope.  It  lacked  the  directness  of  its  inter- 
sector  because  of  the  impenetrable  chaparrals  which 
forced  it  to  wander  hither  and  yon.  Neither  was 
it  as  plain  to  the  eye,  for  preference,  except  in  cases 
of  urgent  necessity,  foreswore  its  saving  of  miles 
and  journeyed  by  the  more  circuitous  southern  trail 
which  wound  beneath  cottonwoods  and  mottes  of 
live  oak  and  frequently  dipped  beneath  the  waters 
of  sluggish  streams,  the  banks  of  which  were 
fringed  with  willows. 

As  a  lean  coyote  loped  past  the  point  of  intersec 
tion  a  moving  object  suddenly  topped  the  skyline 
of  the  southern  end  of  the  sandhills  to  the  east  and 
sprang  into  sharp  silhouette,  paused  for  an  instant 
on  the  edge  of  the  range  and  then,  plunging  down 
into  the  shadows  at  its  base,  rode  rapidly  toward 
the  bowlder. 

He  was  an  Apache,  and  was  magnificent  in  his 
proportions  and  the  easy  erectness  of  his  poise.  He 

16 


Concerning  an  Arrow 


glanced  sharply  about  him,  letting  his  gaze  finally 
settle  on  the  southern  trail  and  then,  leaning  over, 
he  placed  an  object  on  the  highest  point  of  the 
rock.  Wheeling  abruptly,  he  galloped  back  over 
his  trail,  the  rising  wind  setting  diligently  at  work 
to  cover  the  hoofprints  of  his  pony.  He  had  no 
sooner  dropped  from  sight  over  the  hills  than 
another  figure  began  to  be  defined  in  the  dim  light, 
this  time  from  the  north. 

The  newcomer  rode  at  an  easy  canter  and  found 
small  pleasure  in  the  cloud  of  alkali  dust  which  the 
wind  kept  at  pace  with  him.  His  hat,  the  first 
visible  sign  of  his  calling,  proclaimed  him  to  be  a 
cowboy,  and  when  he  had  stopped  at  the  bowlder 
his  every  possession  endorsed  the  silent  testimony 
of  the  hat. 

He  was  bronzed  and  self-reliant,  some  reason 
for  the  latter  being  suggested  by  the  long-barreled 
rifle  which  swung  from  his  right  saddle  skirt  and 
the  pair  of  Colt's  which  lay  along  his  thighs.  He 
wore  the  usual  blue  flannel  shirt,  open  at  the  throat, 
the  regular  silk  kerchief  about  his  neck,  and  the 
indispensable  chaps,  which  were  of  angora  goat 
skin.  His  boots  were  tight  fitting,  with  high  heels, 
and  huge  brass  spurs  projected  therefrom.  A 

17 


The  Orphan 


forty-foot  coil  of  rawhide  hung  from  the  pommel 
of  his  "  rocking-chair  "  saddle  and  a  slicker  was 
strapped  behind  the  cantle. 

He  glanced  behind  him  as  he  drew  rein,  wonder 
ing  when  the  sheriff  would  show  himself,  for  he 
was  being  followed,  of  that  he  was  certain.  That 
was  why  he  had  ridden  through  so  many  chaparrals 
and  doubled  on  his  trail.  He  was  now  riding  to 
describe  a  circle,  the  object  being  to  get  behind  his 
pursuer  and  to  do  some  hunting  on  his  own  account. 
As  he  started  to  continue  on  his  way  his  quick  eyes 
espied  something  on  the  bowlder  which  made  him 
suddenly  draw  rein  again.  Glancing  to  the  ground 
he  saw  the  tracks  made  by  the  Apache,  and  he 
peered  intently  along  the  eastern  trail  with  his  hand 
shading  his  eyes.  The  eyes  were  of  a  grayish  blue, 
hard  and  steely  and  cruel.  They  were  calculating 
eyes,  and  never  missed  anything  worth  seeing.  The 
fierce  glare  of  the  semi-tropical  sun  which  for  many 
years  had  daily  assaulted  them  made  it  imperative 
that  he  squint  from  half-closed  lids,  and  had  given 
his  face  a  malevolent  look.  And  the  characteristics 
promised  by  the  eyes  were  endorsed  by  his  jaw, 
which  was  square  and  firm  set,  underlying  thin, 
straight  lips.  But  about  his  lips  were  graven  lines 

18 


Concerning  an  Arrow 


so  cynical  and  yet  so  humorous  as  to  baffle  an 
observer. 

Raising  his  canteen  to  his  lips  he  counted  seven 
swallows  and  then,  letting  it  fall  to  his  side,  he 
picked  up  the  object  which  had  made  him  pause. 
There  was  no  surprise  in  his  face,  for  he  never  was 
surprised  at  anything. 

As  he  looked  at  the  object  he  remembered  the 
rumors  of  the  Apache  war  dances  and  of  fast- 
riding,  paint-bedaubed  "  hunting  parties."  What 
had  been  rumor  he  now  knew  to  be  a  fact,  and  his 
face  became  even  more  cruel  as  he  realized  that  he 
was  playing  tag  with  the  sheriff  in  the  very  heart 
of  the  Apache  playground,  where  death  might  lurk 
in  any  of  the  thorny  covers  which  surrounded  him 
on  all  sides. 

"  Apache  war  arrow,"  he  grunted.  "  Now  it 
shore  beats  the  devil  that  me  and  the  sheriff  can't 
have  a  free  rein  to  settle  up  our  accounts.  Some 
body  is  always  sticking  their  nose  in  my  business," 
he  grumbled.  Then  he  frowned  at  the  arrow  in 
his  hand.  "  That  red  on  the  head  is  blood,"  he 
murmured,  noticing  the  salient  points  of  the 
weapon,  "  and  that  yellow  hair  means  good  scalp 
ing.  The  thong  of  leather  spells  plunder,  and  it 

19 


The  Orphan 


was  pointing  to  the  east.  The  buck  that  brought 
it  went  back  again,  so  this  is  to  show  his  friends 
which  way  to  ride.  He  was  in  a  hurry,  too,  judg 
ing  from  the  way  he  threw  sand,  and  from  them 
toe-prints. " 

He  hated  Apaches  vindictively,  malevolently, 
with  a  single  purpose  and  instinct,  because  of  a 
little  score  he  owed  them.  Once  when  he  had 
managed  to  rustle  together  a  big  herd  of  horses 
and  was  within  a  day's  ride  of  a  ready  market,  a 
party  of  Apaches  had  ridden  up  in  the  night  and 
made  off  with  not  only  the  stolen  animals,  but  also 
with  his  own  horse.  This  had  lost  him  a  neat  sum 
and  had  forced  him  to  carry  a  forty-pound  saddle, 
a  bridle  and  a  rifle  for  two  days  under  a  merciless 
sun  before  he  reached  civilization.  He  did  not 
thank  them  for  not  killing  him,  which  they  for 
some  reason  neglected  to  do.  Apache  stock  was 
down  very  low  with  him,  and  he  now  had  an  oppor 
tunity  to  even  the  score.  Then  he  thought  of  the 
sheriff,  and  swore.  Finally  he  decided  that  he 
would  just  shoot  that  worthy  as  soon  as  he  came 
within  range,  and  so  be  free  to  play  his  lone  hand 
against  the  race  that  had  stolen  his  horses.  His 
eyes  twinkled  at  the  game  he  was  about  to  play, 

20 


Concerning  an  Arrow 


and  he  regarded  the  silent  message  and  guide  with 
a  smile. 

"  If  it's  all  the  same  to  you,  I'll  just  polish  you 
up  a  bit " — and  when  he  replaced  it  on  the  bowl 
der  its  former  owner  would  not  have  known  it  to 
be  the  same  weapon,  for  its  head  was  not  red,  but 
as  bright  as  the  friction  of  a  handful  of  sand  could 
make  it.  This  destroyed  its  message  of  plentiful 
slaughter  and,  he  knew,  would  grieve  his  enemies. 
He  touched  it  gently  with  his  hand  and  it  swung  at 
right  angles  to  its  former  position  and  now  pointed 
northward  and  in  the  direction  from  which  he 
expected  the  sheriff. 

"  It  was  d d  nice  of  that  Apache  leaving  me 

this,  but  I  reckon  I'll  switch  them  reinforcements — 
the  sheriff  will  be  some  pleased  to  meet  them,"  he 
said,  grinning  at  the  novelty  of  the  situation. 
"  Nobody  will  even  suspect  how  a  lone  puncher  " — 
for  he  regarded  himself  as  a  cowman — "  squaring 
up  a  couple  of  scores  went  and  saved  the  eastern 
valleys  from  more  devilment.  If  the  war-whoops 
are  out  along  the  Cimarron  and  Canadian  they 
are  shore  havin'  fun  enough  to  give  me  a  little. 
But  I  would  like  to  see  the  sheriff's  face  when  he 
bumps  into  the  little  party  I'm  sending  his  way. 

21 


The   Orphan 


Wonder  how  many  he  will  get  before  he  goes 
under?" 

Then  he  again  took  up  the  arrow  and  carefully 
removed  the  hair  and  thong  of  leather,  chuckling 
at  the  tale  of  woe  the  denuded  weapon  would  tell, 
after  which  he  placed  it  as  before,  wishing  he  knew 
how  to  indicate  that  the  Apaches  had  been  wiped 
out. 

He  rode  to  a  chaparral  which  lay  three  hundred 
yards  to  the  southeast  of  him  and  thence  around  it 
to  the  far  side,  where  he  dismounted  and  fastened 
his  horse  to  the  empty  air  by  simply  allowing  the 
reins  to  hang  down  in  front  of  the  animal's  eyes. 
The  pony  knew  many  things  about  ropes  and 
straps,  and  what  it  knew  it  knew  well;  nothing 
short  of  dynamite  would  have  moved  it  while  the 
reins  dangled  before  its  eyes. 

Its  master  slowly  returned  to  the  bowlder,  where 
he  set  to  work  to  cover  his  tracks  with  dust,  for 
although  the  shifting  sand  was  doing  this  for  him, 
it  was  not  doing  it  fast  enough  to  suit  him.  When 
he  had  assured  himself  that  he  had  performed  his 
task  in  a  thoroughly  workmanlike  manner  he 
returned  to  his  horse,  and  finally  found  a  snug 
place  of  concealment  for  it  and  himself.  First 

22 


Concerning  an  Arrow 


bandaging  its  eyes  so  that  it  would  not  whinny  at 
the  approach  of  other  horses,  he  searched  his  pock 
ets  and  finally  brought  to  light  a  pack  of  greasy 
playing  cards,  with  which  he  amused  himself  at 
solitaire,  diligently  keeping  his  eyes  on  both  ends 
of  the  heavier  trail. 

His  intermittent  scrutiny  was  finally  rewarded 
by  a  cloud  of  dust  which  steadily  grew  larger  on 
the  southern  horizon  and  soon  revealed  the  char 
acter  of  the  riders  who  made  it.  As  they  drew 
nearer  to  him  his  implacable  hatred  caused  him  to 
pick  up  his  rifle,  but  he  let  it  slide  from  him  as  he 
counted  the  number  of  the  approaching  party, 
before  which  was  being  driven  a  herd  of  horses 
which  were  intended  to  be  placed  as  relays  for  the 
main  force. 

"  Two,  five,  eight,  eleven,  sixteen,  twenty, 
twenty-four,  twenty-seven,"  he  muttered,  carefully 
settling  himself  more  comfortably.  He  could  dis 
tinguish  the  war  paint  on  the  reddish-brown  colored 
bodies,  and  he  smiled  at  what  was  in  store  for 
them. 

"  I  reckon  I  won't  get  gay  with  no  twenty-seven 
Apaches,"  he  muttered.  "  I  can  wait,  all  right." 

Upon  reaching  the  rock  the  leaders  of  the  band 
23 


The   Orphan 


glanced  at  the  arrow,  excitedly  exchanged  mono 
syllables  and  set  off  to  the  north  at  a  hard  gallop, 
being  followed  by  the  others.  As  he  expected,  they 
were  Apaches,  which  meant  that  of  all  red  raiders 
they  were  the  most  proficient.  They  were  human 
hyenas  with  rare  intelligence  for  war  and  a  most 
aggravating  way  of  not  being  where  one  would 
expect  them  to  be,  as  army  officers  will  testify. 
Besides,  an  Apache  war  party  did  not  appear  to 
have  stomachs,  and  so  traveled  faster  and  farther 
than  the  cavalry  which  so  often  pursued  them. 

The  watcher  chuckled  softly  at  the  success  of  his 
stratagem  and,  suddenly  arising,  went  carefully 
around  the  chaparral  until  he  could  see  the  fast- 
vanishing  braves.  Waiting  until  they  had  dis 
appeared  over  the  northern  end  of  the  crescent- 
shaped  range  of  hills,  he  hurried  to  the  bowlder 
and  again  picked  up  the  arrow. 

"Huh!  Didn't  take  it  with  them,  eh?"  he 
soliloquized.  "  Well,  that  means  that  there's  more 
coming,  so  I'll  just  send  the  next  batch  plumb 
west — they'll  be  some  pleased  to  explore  this  God 
forsaken  desert  some  extensive." 

Grinning  joyously,  he  replaced  the  weapon  with 
its  head  pointing  westward  and  then  looked  anx- 

24 


Concerning  an  Arrow 


iously  at  the  tracks  of  the  party  which  had  just 
passed.  Deciding  that  the  wind  would  effectually 
cover  them  in  an  hour  at  most,  he  returned  to  his 
hiding  place,  taking  care  to  cover  his  own  tracks. 
Taking  a  chance  on  the  second  contingent  going 
north  was  all  right,  but  he  didn't  care  to  run  the 
risk  of  having  them  ride  to  him  for  explanations. 
Picking  up  the  cards  again  he  shuffled  them  and 
suffered  defeat  after  defeat,  and  finally  announced 
his  displeasure  at  the  luck  he  was  having. 

"  I  never  saw  nothing  like  it !  "  he  grumbled 
petulantly.  "  Reckon  Til  hit  up  the  Old  Thirteen 
a  few,"  beginning  a  new  game.  He  had  whiled 
away  an  hour  and  a  half,  and  as  he  stretched  him 
self  his  uneasy  eyes  discovered  another  cloud  on 
the  southern  horizon,  which  was  smaller  than  the 
first.  He  placed  the  six  of  hearts  on  the  five  of 
hearts,  ruffled  the  pack  and  then  put  the  cards 
down  and  took  up  his  rifle,  watching  the  cloud 
closely.  He  was  soon  able  to  count  seven  warriors 
who  were  driving  another  "  cavvieyeh  "  of  horses. 

"  Huh !  Only  seven !  "  he  grunted,  shifting  his 
rifle  for  action.  The  fighting  lust  swept  over  him, 
but  he  choked  it  down  and  idly  fingered  the  hammer 
of  the  gun.  "  Nope,  I  reckon  not — seven  husky 

25 


The   Orphan 


Apaches  are  too  much  for  one  man  to  go  out  of  his 
way  to  fight.  Now,  if  the  sheriff  was  only  with 
me,"  and  he  grinned  at  the  humor  of  it,  "  we  might 
cut  loose  and  heave  lead.  But  since  he  ain't,  this 
is  where  I  don't  chip  in — I'll  wait  a  while,  for 
they'll  shore  come  back." 

The  seven  warriors  went  through  almost  the 
same  actions  which  their  predecessors  had  gone 
through  and  great  excitement  prevailed  among 
them.  The  leaders  pointed  to  the  very  faint  tracks 
which  led  northward  and  debated  vehemently.  But 
the  two  small  stones  which  held  the  arrow  securely 
in  its  position  against  the  possibility  of  the  wind 
shifting  it  could  not  be  doubted,  and  after  a  few 
minutes  had  passed  they  rode  as  bidden,  leaving 
one  of  their  number  on  guard  at  the  bowlder.  Soon 
the  other  six  were  lost  to  sight  among  the  chapar 
rals  to  the  west  and  the  guard  sat  stolidly  under 
the  blazing  sun. 

The  dispatcher  noted  the  position  of  a  shadow 
thrown  on  the  sand  by  a  cactus  and  laughed  silently 
as  he  fingered  his  rifle.  He  could  not  think  out 
the  game.  Try  as  he  would,  he  could  find  no  really 
good  excuse  for  the  placing  of  the  guard,  although 
many  presented  themselves,  to  be  finally  cast  aside. 

26 


Concerning  an  Arrow 


But  the  fact  was  enough,  and  when  the  moving 
shadow  gave  assurance  that  nearly  an  hour  had 
passed  since  the  departure  of  the  guard's  compan 
ions,  the  man  with  the  grudge  cautiously  arose  on 
one  knee. 

After  examining  the  contents  of  his  rifle,  he 
brought  it  slowly  to  his  shoulder.  A  quick,  calcu 
lating  glance  told  him  that  the  range  was  slightly 
over  three  hundred  yards,  and  he  altered  the  eleva 
tion  of  the  rear  sights  accordingly.  After  a  pause, 
during  which  he  gauged  the  strength  and  velocity 
of  the  northern  wind,  he  dropped  his  cheek  against 
the  walnut  stock  of  the  weapon.  The  echoless 
report  rang  out  flatly  and  a  sudden  gust  of  hot 
wind  whipped  the  ragged,  gray  smoke  cloud  into 
the  chaparral,  where  it  lay  close  to  the  ground  and 
spread  out  like  a  miniature  fog.  As  the  smoke 
cleared  away  a  second  cartridge,  inserted  deftly 
and  quickly,  sent  another  cloud  of  smoke  into  the 
chaparral  and  the  marksman  arose  to  his  feet, 
mechanically  reloading  his  gun.  The  second  shot 
was  for  the  guard's  horse,  for  it  would  be  unnec 
essarily  perilous  to  risk  its  rejoining  the  departed 
braves,  which  it  very  probably  would  do  if  allowed 
to  escape. 

27 


Th e   Orphan 


Dropping  his  rifle  into  the  hollow  of  his  arm 
he  walked  swiftly  toward  the  fallen  Indian,  hoping 
that  there  would  be  no  more  war  parties,  for  he 
had  now  made  signs  which  the  most  stupid  Apache 
could  not  fail  to  note  and  understand.  The  dead 
guard  could  be  hidden,  and  by  the  use  of  his  own 
horse  and  rope  he  could  drag  the  carcass  of  the 
animal  into  the  chaparral  and  out  of  sight.  But 
the  trail  which  would  be  left  in  the  loose  sand 
would  be  too  deep  and  wide  to  be  covered.  He 
had  crossed  the  Rubicon,  and  must  stand  or  fall 
by  the  step. 

The  Indian  had  fallen  forward  against  the  bowl 
der  and  had  slid  down  its  side,  landing  on  his  head 
and  shoulders,  in  which  grotesque  position  the  rock 
supported  him.  One  glance  assured  the  "  cow 
man  "  that  his  aim  had  been  good,  and  another 
told  him  that  he  had  to  fear  the  arrival  of  no  more 
war  parties,  for  the  arrow  was  gone.  He  was  not 
satisfied,  however,  until  he  had  made  a  good  search 
for  it,  thinking  that  it  might  have  been  displaced 
by  the  fall  of  the  Apache.  He  lifted  the  body  of 
the  dead  warrior  in  his  arms  and  flung  it  across  the 
apex  of  the  bowlder,  face  up  and  balanced  nicely, 
the  head  pointing  to  the  north.  Then  he  looked 

28 


Concerning  an  Arrow 


for  the  arrow  on  the  sand  where  the  body  had 
rested,  but  it  was  not  to  be  found.  A  sardonic  grin 
flitted  across  his  face  as  he  secured  the  weapons  of 
the  late  guard,  which  were  a  heavy  Colt's  revolver 
and  a  late  pattern  Winchester  repeater.  Taking 
the  cartridges  from  his  body,  he  stood  up  trium 
phant.  He  now  had  what  he  needed  to  meet  the 
smaller  body  of  Indians  on  their  return,  ten  shots 
in  one  rifle  and  a  spare  Colt's. 

"  One  for  my  cavvieyeh !  "  he  muttered  savagely 
as  he  thought  of  the  loss  of  his  horse  herd. 
"  There'll  be  more,  too,  before  I  get  through,  or 
my  name's  not " —  he  paused  abruptly,  hearing 
hoofbeats  made  by  a  galloping  horse  over  a  stretch 
of  hard  soil  which  lay  to  the  east  of  him.  Leaping 
quickly  behind  the  bowlder,  he  leveled  his  own 
rifle  across  the  body  of  the  guard  and  peered  in 
tently  toward  the  east,  wondering  if  the  advancing 
horseman  would  be  the  sheriff  or  another  Apache. 
The  hoofbeats  came  rapidly  nearer  and  another 
courier  turned  the  corner  of  the  chaparral  and 
went  no  further.  Again  a  second  shot  took  care 
of  the  horse  and  the  marksman  strode  to  his  second 
victim,  from  whose  body  and  horse  he  took  another 
Winchester  and  Colt. 

29 


The   Orphan 


"  Now  I  am  in  for  it !  "  he  muttered  as  he  looked 
down  at  the  warrior.  "  This  is  shore  getting  warm, 

and  it'll  be  a  d n  sight  warmer  if  his  friends  get 

anxious  about  him  and  hunt  him  up." 

Glancing  around  the  horizon  and  seeing  no  signs 
of  an  interruption,  he  slung  the  body  across  his 
shoulders  and  staggered  with  it  to  the  bowlder, 
where  he  heaved  and  pushed  it  across  the  body  of 
the  first  Apache. 

"  Might  as  well  make  a  good  showing  and  make 
them  mad,  for  I  can't  very  well  hide  you  and  the 
cayuses — I  ain't  no  graveyard,"  he  said,  stepping 
back  to  look  at  his  work.  He  felt  no  remorse,  for 
that  was  a  sensation  not  yet  awakened  in  his  con 
sciousness.  He  was  elated  at  his  success,  joyous  in 
catering  to  his  love  for  fighting,  for  he  would 
rather  die  fighting  than  live  the  round  of  years 
heavily  monotonous  with  peace,  and  his  only  regret 
was  having  won  by  ambush.  But  in  this,  he  told 
himself,  there  was  need,  for  his  hatred  ordered  him 
to  kill  as  many  as  he  could,  and  in  any  way  possible. 
Knowing  that  he  was,  single-handed,  attempting 
to  outwit  wily  chiefs  and  that  he  had  before  him  a 
carnival  of  fighting,  he  would  not  have  hesitated 
to  make  use  of  traps  if  they  were  at  hand  and  could 

30 


Concerning  an  Arrow 


be  used.  Perhaps  it  was  old  Geronimo  whose  plans 
he  was  defeating  and,  if  so,  no  precautions  nor 
means  were  unjustifiable  and  too  mean  to  make 
use  of,  for  Geronimo  was  half-brother  to  the  devil 
and  a  genius  for  warfare  and  slaughter,  with  a 
ferocity  and  cruelty  cold-blooded  and  consummate. 
He  had  yet  time  to  escape  from  his  perilous  posi 
tion  and  meet  the  sheriff,  if  that  worthy  had  eluded 
the  first  war  party.  But  his  elation  had  the  upper 
hand  and  his  brute  courage  was  now  blind  to  cau 
tion.  He  savagely  decided  that  his  matter  with 
the  sheriff  could  wait  and  that  he  would  take  care 
of  the  war  parties  first,  since  there  was  more  honor 
in  fighting  against  odds.  The  two  Winchesters 
and  his  own  Sharps,  not  to  consider  the  four  Colt's, 
gave  him  many  shots  without  having  to  waste  time 
in  reloading,  and  he  drew  assurance  from  the  past 
that  he  placed  his  shots  quickly  and  with  precision. 
He  could  put  up  a  magnificent  fight  in  the  chapar 
ral,  shifting  his  position  after  each  shot,  and  he 
could  hug  the  ground  where  the  trunks  of  the  vege 
tation  were  thickest  and  would  prove  an  effective 
barrier  against  random  shots.  His  wits  were  keen, 
his  legs  nimble,  his  eyesight  and  accuracy  above 
doubt,  and  he  had  no  cause  to  believe  that  his 

31 


The   Orphan 


strategy  was  inferior  to  that  of  his  foes.  There 
would  be  no  moon  for  two  nights,  and  he  could 
escape  in  the  darkness  if  hunger  and  thirst  should 
drive  him  out.  Here  he  had  struck,  and  here  he 
would  strike  again  and  again,  and,  if  he  fell,  he 
would  leave  behind  him  such  a  tale  of  fighting  as 
had  seldom  been  known  before ;  and  it  pleased  his 
vanity  to  think  of  the  amazement  the  story  would 
call  forth  as  it  was  recounted  around  the  campfires 
and  across  the  bars  of  a  country  larger  than 
Europe.  He  did  not  realize  that  such  a  tale  would 
die  if  he  died  and  would  never  be  known.  His  was 
the  joy  of  a  master  of  the  game,  a  virile,  fearless 
fighting  machine,  a  man  who  had  never  failed  in 
the  playing  of  the  many  hands  he  had  held  in  des 
perate  games  with  death.  He  was  not  going  to 
die ;  he  was  going  to  win  and  leave  dying  for  others. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE    SHERIFF    FINDS   THE    ORPHAN 

THE  day  dragged  wearily  along  for  the  man 
in  the  chaparral,  and  when  the  sun  showed 
that  it  was  still  two  hours  from  the  merid 
ian  he  leaped  to  his  feet,  rifle  in  hand,  and  peered 
intently  to  the  west,  where  he  had  seen  a  fast- 
riding  horseman  flit  between  two  chaparrals  which 
stood  far  down  on  the  western  end  of  the  Cimarron 
Trail.  Without  pausing,  he  made  his  way  out  of 
cover  and  ran  rapidly  along  the  edge  of  the  thicket 
until  he  had  gained  its  northwestern  extremity, 
where  he  plunged  into  it,  unmindful  of  the  cuts  and 
slashes  from  the  interlocked  thorns.  Using  the 
rifle  as  a  club,  he  hammered  and  pushed  until  he 
was  screened  from  the  view  of  anyone  passing 
along  the  trail,  but  where  he  could  see  all  who 
approached.  As  he  turned  and  faced  the  west  he 
saw  the  horseman  suddenly  emerge  from  the  shel 
ter  of  the  last  chaparral  in  his  course  and  ride 

33 


The   Orphan 


straight  for  the  intersection  of  the  trails,  his  horse 
flattened  to  the  earth  by  the  speed  it  was  making. 
Waiting  until  the  rider  was  within  fifty  yards  of 
him,  he  pushed  his  way  out  to  the  trail,  the  rifle 
leaping  to  his  shoulder  as  he  stepped  into  the  open. 
The  newcomer  was  looking  back  at  half  a  dozen 
Apaches  who  had  burst  into  view  by  the  chaparral 
he  had  just  quitted,  and  when  he  turned  he  was 
stopped  by  a  hail  and  the  sight  of  an  unwavering 
rifle  held  by  the  man  on  foot. 

"  A  truce !  "  shouted  The  Orphan  from  behind 
the  sights,  having  an  idea  and  wishing  to  share  it. 

"  Hell,  yes !  "  cried  the  astonished  sheriff  in 
reply,  slowing  down  and  mechanically  following 
the  already  running  outlaw  to  the  place  where  the 
latter  had  spent  the  last  few  hours. 

By  keeping  close  to  the  edge  of  the  chaparral, 
which  receded  from  the  trail,  The  Orphan  had  not 
been  seen  by  the  Apaches,  and  as  he  turned  into  his 
hiding  place  a  yell  reached  his  ears.  His  trophies 
on  the  bowlder  were  not  to  be  unmourned. 

As  he  wormed  his  way  into  the  thicket,  closely 
followed  by  the  sheriff,  he  tersely  explained  the 
situation,  and  Shields,  feeling  somewhat  under 
obligation  to  the  man  who  had  refrained  from 

34 


The  Sheriff  Finds  the   Orphan 

killing  him,  nodded  and  smiled  in  good  nature. 
The  sheriff  thought  it  was  a  fine  joke  and  enthusi 
astically  slapped  his  enemy  on  the  back  to  show  his 
appreciation,  for  the  time  forgetting  that  they  very 
probably  would  try  to  kill  each  other  later  on,  after 
the  Apaches  had  been  taken  care  of. 

As  they  reached  a  point  which  gave  them  a  clear 
view  of  the  bowlder,  The  Orphan  kicked  his  com 
panion  on  the  shin,  pointing  to  the  Apaches 
grouped  around  their  dead. 

"  It's  a  little  over  three  hundred,  Sheriff,"  he 
said.  "  You  shoot  first  and  I'll  follow  you,  so 
they'll  think  you  shot  twice — there's  no  use  letting 
them  think  that  there's  two  of  us,  that  is,  not  yet." 

"  Good  idea,"  replied  the  sheriff,  nodding  and 
throwing  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder.  "  Right  end  for 
me,"  he  said,  calling  his  shot  so  as  to  be  sure  that 
the  same  brave  would  not  receive  all  the  attention. 
As  he  fired  his  companion  covered  the  second  war 
rior,  using  one  of  his  captured  Winchesters,  and 
a  second  later  the  rifle  spun  flame.  Both  warriors 
dropped  and  the  remaining  four  hastily  postponed 
their  mourning  and  tumbled  helter  skelter  behind 
the  bowlder,  the  sheriff's  second  shot  becoming  a 
part  of  the  last  one  to  find  cover. 

35 


The   Orphan 


"  Fine !  "  exulted  the  sheriff,  delighted  at  the 

score.  "  Best  game  I  ever  took  a  hand  in,  d d 

if  it  ain't!  We'll  have  them  guessing  so  hard  that 
they'll  get  brain  fever." 

''  Three  shots  in  as  many  seconds  will  make 
them  think  that  they  are  facing  a  Winchester  in 
the  hands  of  a  crack  shot,"  remarked  The  Orphan, 
smiling  with  pleasure  at  the  sheriff's  appreciation. 
"  They'll  think  that  if  they  can  back  off  from  the 
bowlder  and  keep  it  between  them  and  you  that 
they  can  get  out  of  range  in  a  few  hundred  yards 
more.  That  is  where  I  come  in  again.  You  sling 
a  little  lead  to  let  them  know  that  you  haven't 
moved  a  whole  lot,  but  stop  in  a  couple  of  minutes, 
while  I  go  down  the  line  a  ways.  The  chaparral 
sweeps  to  the  north  quite  a  little,  and  mebby  I  can 
drop  a  slug  behind  their  fort  from  down  there. 
That'll  make  them  think  you  are  a  jack  rabbit  at 
covering  ground  and  will  bother  them.  If  they 
rush,  which  they  won't  after  tasting  that  kind  of 
shooting,  you  whistle  good  and  loud  and  we'll  make 
them  plumb  disgusted.  I'll  take  a  Winchester 
along  with  me,  so  they  won't  have  any  cause  to 
suspect  that  you  are  an  arsenal.  So  long." 

The  sheriff  ganced  up  as  his  companion  departed 

36 


The  Sheriff  Finds  the   Orphan 

and  was  pleased  at  the  outlaw's  command  of  thesit- 
uation.  He  had  a  good  chance  to  wipe  out  the  man, 
but  that  he  would  not  do,  for  The  Orphan  trusted 
him,  and  Shields  was  one  who  respected  a  thing 
like  that. 

The  outlaw  finally  stopped  about  a  hundred 
yards  down  the  trail  and  looked  out,  using  his 
glasses.  A  brown  shoulder  showed  under  the  over 
hanging  side  of  the  bowlder  and  he  smiled,  read 
justing  the  sights  on  the  Winchester  as  he  waited. 
Soon  the  shoulder  raised  from  the  ground  and 
pushed  out  farther  into  sight.  Then  a  poll  of 
black  hair  showed  itself  and  slowly  raised.  The 
Orphan  took  deliberate  aim  and  pulled  the  trigger. 
The  head  dropped  to  the  sand  and  the  shoulder 
heaved  convulsively  once  or  twice  and  then  lay 
quiet.  Leaping  up,  the  marksman  hastened  back 
to  the  side  of  the  sheriff,  who  did  not  trouble  him 
self  to  look  up. 

"  I  got  him,  Sheriff,"  he  said.  "  Work  up  to 
the  other  end  and  I'll  go  back  to  where  I  came 
from.  They  have  got  all  the  fighting  they  have 
any  use  for  and  will  be  backing  away  purty  soon 
now.  The  range  from  the  point  where  I  held  you 
up  is  some  closer  than  it  is  from  here,  so  you  ought 

37 


The   Orphan 


to  get  in  a  shot  when  they  get  far  enough 
back." 

"  All  right,"  pleasantly  responded  Shields,  vig 
orously  attacking  the  thorns  as  he  began  his  jour 
ney  to  the  western  end  of  the  thicket.  "  Ouch !  " 
he  exclaimed  as  he  felt  the  pricks.  Then  he 
stopped  and  slowly  turned  and  saw  The  Orphan 
smiling  at  him,  and  grinned: 

"  Say,"  he  began,  "  why  can't  I  go  around?  "  he 
asked,  indicating  with  a  sweep  of  his  arm  the 
southern  edge  of  the  chaparral,  and  intimating  that 
it  would  be  far  more  pleasant  to  skirt  the  thorns 

than  to  buck  against  them.  "  These  d d  thorns 

ain't  no  joke!  "  he  added  emphatically. 

The  outlaw's  smile  enlarged  and  he  glanced 
quickly  at  the  bowlder  to  see  that  all  was  as  it 
should  be. 

"  You  can  go  around  in  one  day  afoot,"  he 
replied.  "  By  that  time  they  " — pointing  to  the 
Apaches — "  will  have  made  a  day's  journey  on 
cayuses.  And  we  simply  mustn't  let  them  get  the 
best  of  us  that  way." 

Shields  grinned  and  turned  half-way  around 
again:  "It's  a  whole  lot  dry  out  here,"  he  said, 
"  and  my  canteen  is  on  my  cayuse." 

"  Here,  pardner,"  replied  The  Orphan,  holding 

38 


The  Sheriff  Finds  the   Orphan 

out  his  canteen  and  watching  the  effect  of  the  famil 
iarity.  "  Seven  swallows  is  the  dose." 

The  sheriff  faced  him,  took  the  vessel,  counted 
seven  swallows  and  returned  it. 

"I'm  some  moist  now,"  he  remarked,  as  he 

returned  to  the  thorns.  "  It's  too  d n  bad 

you're  bad,"  he  grumbled.  "  You'd  make  a  blamed 
good  cow-puncher." 

The  Orphan,  still  smiling,  placed  his  hands  on 
hips  and  watched  the  rapidly  disappearing  arm  of 
the  law. 

"  He's  all  right — too  bad  he'll  make  me  shoot 
him,"  he  soliloquized,  turning  toward  his  post.  As 
he  crawled  through  a  particularly  badly  matted  bit 
of  chaparral  he  stopped  to  release  himself  and 
laughed  outright.  "  How  in  thunder  did  he  get  so 
far  west?  My  trail  was  as  plain  as  day,  too." 
When  he  had  reached  his  destination  and  had  set 
tled  down  to  watch  the  bowlder  he  laughed  again 
and  muttered :  "  Mebby  he  figured  it  out  that  I  was 
doubling  back  and  was  laying  for  me  to  show  up. 
And  that's  just  the  way  I  would  have  gone,  too. 
He  ain't  any  fool,  all  right." 

He  thought  of  the  sheriff  at  the  far  end  of  the 
chaparral  and  of  the  repeater  he  carried,  and  an 
inexplicable  impulse  of  generosity  surged  over  him. 

39 


The   Orphan 


The  sheriff  would  be  pleased  to  do  the  rest  himself, 
he  thought,  and  the  thought  was  father  to  the  act. 
He  picked  up  the  Winchester  he  had  brought  with 
him  and  fired  at  the  bowlder,  only  wishing  to  let 
the  Apaches  know  his  position  so  that  they  would 
think  the  way  clear  to  the  northwest,  and  so  inno 
cently  give  the  sheriff  a  shot  at  them  as  they 
retreated.  Dropping  the  Winchester  he  took  up 
his  Sharps,  his  pet  rifle,  with  which  he  had  done 
wonderful  shooting,  and  arose  to  one  knee,  support 
ing  his  left  elbow  on  the  other;  between  the  fingers 
of  his  left  hand  he  held  a  cartridge  in  order  that 
no  time  should  be  lost  in  reloading.  The  range 
was  now  five  hundred  yards,  and  when  The  Orphan 
knew  the  exact  range  he  swore  with  rage  if  he 
missed. 

His  shot  had  the  effect  he  hoped  it  would  have, 
for  suddenly  there  was  movement  behind  the 
bowlder.  A  pony's  hip  showed  for  an  instant  and 
then  leaped  from  sight  as  the  outlaw  reloaded.  A 
cloud  of  dust  arose  to  the  northwest  of  and  behind 
the  bowlder,  and  a  series  of  close  reports  sounded 
from  the  direction  of  the  sheriff.  The  Orphan 
leaped  to  his  feet  and  dashed  out  on  the  plain  to 
where  his  sight  would  not  be  obstructed  and  saw 

40 


The  Sheriff  Finds  the  Orphan 

an  Apacht,  who  hung  down  on  the  far  side  of  his 
horse,  sweep  northward  and  gallop  along  the  north 
ern  trail.  He  fired,  but  the  range  was  too  great, 
and  the  warrior  soon  dropped  from  sight  over  the 
range  of  hills.  As  The  Orphan  made  his  way 
toward  the  bowlder  the  sheriff  emerged  from  his 
shelter  and  pointed  to  the  west.  A  pony  lay  on 
its  side  and  not  far  away  was  the  huddled  body  of 
its  rider. 

As  they  neared  each  other  the  outlaw  noticed 
something  peculiar  about  the  sheriff's  ear,  and  his 
look  of  inquiry  was  rewarded.  "  Stung,"  remarked 
Shields,  grinning  apologetically.  "  Just  as  I  shot," 
he  added  in  explanation  of  the  Apache's  escape. 
"  Wonder  what  my  wife'll  say?  "  he  mused,  nursing 
the  swelling. 

The  Orphan's  eyes  opened  a  trifle  at  the  sheriff's 
last  words,  and  he  thought  of  the  war  party  he  had 
sent  north.  His  decision  was  immediate:  no  mar 
ried  man  had  any  business  to  run  risks,  and  he  was 
glad  that  he  refrained  from  shooting  on  sight. 

"  Sheriff,  you  vamoose.  Clear  out  now,  while 
you  have  the  chance.  Ride  west  for  an  hour,  and 
then  strike  north  for  Ford's  Station.  That  buck 
that  got  away  is  due  to  run  into  twenty-seven  of 


The   Orphan 


his  friends  and  relatives  that  I  sent  north  to  meet 
you.  And  they  won't  waste  any  time  in  getting 
back,  neither." 

Shields  felt  of  his  ear  and  laughed  softly.  He 
had  a  sudden,  strong  liking  for  his  humorous, 
clever  enemy,  for  he  recognized  qualities  which  he 
had  always  held  in  high  esteem.  While  he  had 
waited  in  the  chaparral  for  the  Apaches  to  break 
cover  he  had  wondered  if  the  Indians  which  The 
Orphan  had  sent  north  had  been  sent  for  the  pur 
pose  of  meeting  him,  and  now  he  had  the  answer. 
Instead  of  embittering  him  against  his  companion, 
it  increased  his  respect  for  that  individual's  strategy, 
and  he  felt  only  admiration. 

"  I  saw  your  reception  committee  in  time  to 
duck,"  the  sheriff  said,  laughing.  "If  they  kept  on 
going  as  they  were  when  I  saw  them  they  must 
have  crossed  my  trail  about  three  hours  later. 
When  they  hit  that  it  is  a  safe  bet  that  at  least  some 
of  them  took  it  up.  So  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you, 
I'll  leave  both  the  north  and  the  west  alone  and 
take  another  route  home.  I  have  shot  up  all  the 
war-whoops  I  care  about,  so  I  am  well  satisfied." 

He  suddenly  reached  down  toward  his  belt,  and 
then  looked  squarely  into  The  Orphan's  gun,  which 

42 


The  Sheriff  Finds  the  Orphan 

rested  easily  on  that  person's  hip.  His  hand  kept 
on,  however,  but  more  slowly  and  with  but  two 
fingers  extended,  and  disappeared  into  his  chap's 
pocket,  from  which  it  slowly  and  gingerly  brought 
forth  a  package  of  tobacco  and  some  rice  paper. 
The  Orphan  looked  embarrassed  for  a  second  and 
then  laughed  softly. 

"  You're  a  square  man,  Sheriff,  but  I  wasn't 
sure,"  he  said  in  apology.  "  So  long." 

"  That's  all  right,"  cried  the  sheriff  heartily. 
"  I  was  a  big  fool  to  make  a  play  like  that  1  " 

The  Orphan  smiled  and  turned  squarely  around 
and  walked  away  in  the  direction  of  his  horse. 
Shields  stared  at  his  back  and  then  rolled  a  cigar 
ette  and  grinned:  "By  George!"  he  ejaculated  at 
the  confidence  displayed  by  his  companion,  and  he 
slowly  followed. 

After  they  had  mounted  in  silence  the  sheriff  sud 
denly  turned  and  looked  his  companion  squarely  in 
the  eyes  and  received  a  steady,  frank  look  in  return. 

"  What  the  devil  made  you  ventilate  them  sheep 
herders  that  way?  "  he  asked.  "  And  go  and  drive 
all  of  them  sheep  over  the  bank?" 

The  Orphan  frowned  momentarily,  but  answered 
without  reserve. 

43 


The  Orphan 


"  Those  sheep  herders  reckoned  they'd  get  a 
reputation  I  "  he  answered.  "  And  they  would  have 
gotten  it,  too,  only  I  beat  them  on  the  draw.  As 
for  the  idiotic  muttons,  they  went  plumb  loco  at 
the  shooting  and  pushed  each  other  over  the  bank. 
To  hell  with  the  herders — they  only  got  what  they 
was  trying  to  hand  me.  But  I'm  a  whole  lot  sorry 
about  the  sheep,  although  I  can't  say  I'm  dead  stuck 
on  range-killers  of  any  kind." 

The  sheriff  reflectively  eyed  his  companion's  gun 
and  remembered  its  celerity  into  getting  into  action, 
which  persuaded  him  that  The  Orphan  was  telling 
the  truth,  and  swept  aside  the  last  chance  for  fair 
warfare  between  the  two  for  the  day. 

"  Yes,  it  is  too  bad,  all  them  innocent  sheep 
drowned  that  way,"  he  slowly  replied.  "  But  they 
are  shore  awful  skittish  at  times.  Well,  do  we 
part?  "  he  asked,  suddenly  holding  out  his  hand. 

"  I  reckon  we  do,  Sheriff,  and  I'm  blamed  glad 
to  have  met  you,"  replied  the  outlaw  as  he  shook 
hands  with  no  uncertain  grip.  "  Keep  away  from 
them  Apaches,  and  so  long." 

"  Thanks,  I  will,"  responded  the  arm  of  the 
law.  "  And  I'm  glad  to  have  met  you,  too.  So 
long!" 

44 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE  SECOND  OFFENSE 

BILL  HOWLAND  emerged  from  the  six-by- 
six  office  of  the  F.  S.  and  S.  Stage  Company 
and  strolled  down  the  street  to  where  his 
Concord  stood.  He  hitched  up  and,  after  exam 
ining  the  harness,  gained  his  seat,  gathered  up  the 
lines  and  yelled.  There  was  a  lurch  and  a  rumble, 
and  Bill  turned  the  corner  on  two  wheels  to  the 
gratification  of  sundry  stray  dogs,  whose  gratifica 
tion  turned  to  yelps  of  surprise  and  pain  as  the 
driver  neatly  flecked  bits  of  hair  from  their  bodies 
with  his  sixteen  foot  "  blacksnake."  Twice  each 
week  Bill  drove  his  Concord  around  the  same  cor 
ner  on  the  same  two  wheels  and  flecked  bits  of  hair 
from  stray  dogs  with  the  same  whip.  He  would 
have  been  deeply  grieved  if  the  supply  of  new  stray 
dogs  gave  out,  for  no  dogs  were  ever  known  to  get 
close  enough  to  be  skinned  the  second  time;  once 
was  enough,  and  those  which  had  felt  the  sting  of 

45 


The   Orphan 


Bill's  leather  were  content  to  stand  across  the  street 
and  create  the  necessary  excitement  to  urge  the  new 
arrivals  forward.  The  local  wit  is  reported  as 
saying:  "  Dogs  may  come  and  dogs  may  go,  but 
Bill  goes  on  forever,"  which  saying  pleased  Bill 
greatly. 

As  he  threw  the  mail  bag  on  the  seat  the  sheriff 
came  up  and  watched  him,  his  eyes  a-twinkle  with 
humor. 

"  Well,  Sheriff,  how's  the  boy?  "  genially  asked 
Bill,  who  could  talk  all  day  on  anything  and  two 
days  on  nothing  without  fatigue. 

"  All  right,  Bill,  thank  you,"  the  sheriff  replied. 
"  I  hope  you  are  able  to  take  something  more  than 
liquid  nourishment,"  he  added. 

"  Oh,  you  trust  me  for  that,  Sheriff.  When  my 
appetite  gives  out  I'll  be  ready  to  plant.  I  see  your 
ear  is  some  smaller.  Blamed  funny  how  they  do 
swell  sometimes,"  remarked  the  driver,  loosening 
his  collar. 

The  sheriff  knew  what  that  action  meant  and  hur 
ried  to  break  the  thread  of  the  conversation. 

"  New  wheel?  "  he  asked,  eying  what  he  knew  to 
be  old. 

"  Nope,  painted,  that's  all,"  the  driver  replied, 


The  Second  Offense 


grinning.  "  But  she  shore  docs  look  new,  don't 
she?  You  see,  Dick  put  in  two  new  spokes  yester 
day,  and  when  I  saw  'em  I  says,  says  I,  l  Dick, 
that  new  wheel  don't  look  good  thataway,'  says  I. 
*  It'll  look  like  a  limp,  them  new  spokes  coming 
'round  all  alone  like,'  says  I.  So  we  paints  it,  but 
we  didn't  have  time  to  paint  the  others,  but  they 
won't  make  much  difference,  anyhow,  Funny  how 
a  little  paint  will  change  things,  now  ain't  it? 
Why,  I  can  remember  when " 

"  Much  mail  nowadays?  "  interposed  the  sheriff 
calmly. 

"  Nope.  Folks  out  here  ain't  a-helpin'  Uncle 
Sam  much.  Postmaster  says  he  only  sold  ten 
stamps  this  week.  What  he  wants,  as  I  told  him, 
is  women.  Then  everybody'll  be  sendin'  letters  and 
presents  and  things.  Now,  I  knows  what  I'm 
talking  about,  because " 

"  The  Apaches  are  out,"  jabbed  the  sheriff,  hope 
fully. 

"  Yes,  I  heard  that  you  had  a  soiree  with  them. 
But  they  won't  get  so  far  north  as  this.  No,  siree, 
they  won't.  They  knows  too  much,  Apaches  do. 
Ain't  they  smart  cusses,  though  ?  Now,  there's  old 
Geronimo — been  raising  the  devil  for  years.  The 

47 


The  Orphan 


cavalry  goes  out  for  him  regular,  and  shore  thinks 
he's  caught,  but  he  ain't.  When  he's  found  he's 
home  smoking  his  pipe  and  counting  his  wives, 
which  are  shore  numerous,  they  say.  Now,  I've 
got  a  bully  scheme  for  getting  him,  Sheriff " 

"  Hey,  you,"  came  from  the  office.  "  Do  you 
reckon  that  train  is  going  to  tie  up  and  wait  for  you, 

hey?  Do  you  think  you  are  so  d d  important 

that  they  won't  pull  out  unless  you're  on  hand? 
Why  in  h — 1  don't  you  quit  chinning  and  get 
started?" 

"  Oh,  you  choke  up !  "  cried  Bill,  clambering  up 
to  his  seat.  "  Who's  running  this,  anyhow !  "  he 
grumbled  under  his  breath.  Then  he  took  up  the 
reins  and  carefully  sorted  them,  after  which  he 
looked  down  at  Shields,  whose  face  wore  a  smile 
of  amusement. 

"  Bill  Rowland  ain't  none  a-scared  because  a  lot 
of  calamity  howlers  get  a  hunch.  Not  on  your  life ! 
I've  reached  the  high  C  of  rollicking  progress  too 
many  times  to  be  airy  scairt  at  rumors.  Show  me 
the  feather-dusters  in  war  paint,  and  then  I'll  take 
some  stock  in  raids.  You  get  up  a  bet  on  me 
Sheriff,  make  a  little  easy  money.  Back  Bill  How- 
land  to  be  right  here  in  seventy-two  hours,  right 


The  Second  Offense 


side  up  and  smiling,  and  you'll  win.    You  just  bet 
you'll " 

"  Well,  you  won't  get  here  in  a  year  unless  you 
starts,  you  pest!  For  God's  sake  get  a-going  and 
give  the  sheriff  a  rest!  "  came  explosively  from  the 
office,  accompanied  by  a  sound  as  if  a  chair  had 
dropped  to  its  four  legs.  A  tall,  angular  man  stood 
in  the  doorway  and  shook  his  fist  at  the  huge  cloud 
of  dust  which  rolled  down  the  street,  muttering 
savagely.  Bill  Howland  had  started  on  his  eighty- 
mile  trip  to  Sagetown. 

"  Damnedest  talker  on  two  laigs,"  asserted  the 
clerk.  "  He'll  drive  me  loco  some  day  with  his 
eternal  jabber,  jabber.  Why  do  you  waste  time 
with  him?  Tell  him  to  close  his  yap  and  go  to 
h — 1.  Beat  him  over  the  head,  anything  to  shut 
him  up !  " 

Shields  smiled :  "  Oh,  he  can't  help  it.  He  don't 
do  anybody  any  harm." 

The  clerk  shook  his  head  in  doubt  and  started  to 
return  to  his  chair,  and  then  stopped. 

"  I  hear  you  expect  some  women  out  purty  soon," 
he  suggested. 

"Yes.  Sisters  and  a  friend,"  Shields  replied 
shortly. 

49 


The   Orphan 


"  Ain't  you  a  little  leary  about  letting  'em  come 
out  here  while  the  Apaches  are  out?  " 

"  Not  very  much — I'll  be  on  hand  when  they 
arrive,"  the  sheriff  assured  him. 

"  How  soon  are  they  due  to  land?  " 

"  Next  trip  if  nothing  hinders  them." 

'  Jim  Hawes  is  comin'  out  next  trip,"  volun 
teered  the  clerk. 

"  Good,"  responded  the  sheriff,  turning  to  go. 
"  Every  gun  counts,  and  Jim  is  a  good  man." 

"  Say,"  the  agent  was  lonesome,  "  I  heard  down 
at  the  Oasis  last  night  that  The  Orphant  was  seen 
out  near  the  Cross  Bar-8  yesterday.  He  ought  to 
get  shot,  d n  him !  But  that's  a  purty  big  con 
tract,  I  reckon.  They  say  he  can  shoot  like  the 
very  devil." 

"  They're  right,  he  can,"  Shields  replied. 
"  Everybody  knows  that." 

"  Charley  seems  to  be  in  a  hurry,"  remarked  the 
agent,  looking  down  the  street  at  a  cowboy,  a  friend 
of  the  sheriff,  who  was  coming  at  a  dead  gallop. 
The  sheriff  looked  and  Charley  waved  his  arm.  As 
he  came  within  hailing  distance  he  shouted : 

"  The  Orphan  killed  Jimmy  Ford  this  morning 
on  Twenty  Mile  Trail !  His  pardner  got  away  by 

50 


The  Second  Offense 


shootin'  The  Orphan's  horse  and  taking  to  the  trail 
through  Little  Arroyo.  But  he's  shot,  just  the 
same,  'though  not  bad.  The  rest  of  the  Cross 
Bar-8  outfit  are  going  out  for  him;  they've  been 
out,  but  they  can't  follow  his  trail." 

"  Hell !  "  cried  the  sheriff,  running  toward  his 
corral.  "  Wait !  "  he  shouted  over  his  shoulder  as 
he  turned  the  corner.  In  less  than  five  minutes  he 
was  back  again,  and  on  his  best  horse,  and  follow 
ing  the  impatient  cowboy,  swung  down  the  street 
at  a  gallop  in  the  direction  of  Twenty  Mile  Trail. 

As  they  left  the  town  behind  and  swung  through 
the  arroyo  leading  to  the  Limping  Water,  through 
which  the  stage  route  lay,  Charley  began  to  speak 
again : 

"  Jimmy  and  Pete  Carson  were  taking  a  rest  in 
the  shade  of  the  chaparral  and  playin'  old  sledge, 
when  they  looked  up  and  saw  The  Orphan  looking 
down  at  them.  They're  rather  easy-going,  and  so 
they  asked  him  to  take  a  hand.  He  said  he  would, 
and  got  off  his  cayuse  and  sat  down  with  them. 
Jimmy  started  a  new  deal,  but  The  Orphan  objected 
to  old  sledge  and  wanted  poker,  at  the  same  time 
throwing  a  bag  of  dust  down  in  front  of  him. 
Jimmy  looked  at  Pete,  who  nodded,  and  put  his 


The   Orphan 


wealth  in  front  of  him.  Well,  they  played  along 
for  a  while,  and  The  Orphan  began  to  have  great 
luck.  When  he  had  won  five  straight  jack  pots  it 
was  more  than  Jimmy  could  stand,  him  being  young 
and  hasty.  He  saw  his  new  Cheyenne  saddle,  what 
he  was  going  to  buy,  getting  further  away  all  the 
time,  and  he  yelled  *  Cheat !  '  grabbing  for  his  gun, 
what  was  plumb  crazy  for  him  to  do. 

"  The  Orphan  fired  from  his  hip  quick  as  a  wink, 
and  Jimmy  fell  back  just  as  Pete  drew.  The 
Orphan  swung  on  him  and  ordered  him  to  drop  his 
gun,  which  same  Pete  did,  being  sick  at  the  stomach 
at  Jimmy's  passing.  Then  The  Orphan  told  him 
to  take  his  dirty  money  and  his  cheap  life  and  go 
back  to  his  mamma.  Pete  didn't  stop  none  to  argue, 
but  mounted  and  rode  away.  But  the  fool  wasn't 
satisfied  at  having  a  whole  skin  after  a  run-in  with 
The  Orphan,  and  when  he  got  off  about  four  hun 
dred  yards  and  right  on  the  edge  of  Little  Arroyo, 
where  he  could  get  cover  in  one  jump,  he  up  and  let 
drive,  killing  The  Orphan's  horse.  Pete  got  two 
holes  in  his  shoulder  before  he  could  get  out  of 
sight,  and  he  remembered  that  his  shot  had  hardly 
left  his  gun  before  he  had  'em,  too.  Pete  says  he 
wonders  how  in  h — 1  The  Orphan  could  shoot 

5* 


The  Second  Offense 


twice  so  quick,  when  his  gun's  a  Sharp's  single 
shot." 

Shields  was  pleased  with  the  knowledge  that  it 
was  not  a  plain  murder  this  time,  and  fell  to  won 
dering  if  the  other  killings  in  which  The  Orphan 
had  figured  had  not  in  a  measure  been  justified.* 
Hearsay  cried  "  Murderer,"  but  his  own  personal 
experience  denied  the  term.  Did  not  The  Orphan 
know  that  Shields  was  after  him,  and  that  the 
sheriff  was  no  man  to  be  taken  lightly  when  he 
had  shown  mercy  near  the  big  bowlder?  The  out 
law  must  be  fair  and  square,  reasoned  the  sheriff, 
else  he  would  not  have  looked  for  those  qualities 
in  another,  and  least  of  all  in  an  enemy.  The  out 
law  had  given  him  plenty  of  chances  to  kill  and  had 
thought  nothing  of  it,  time  and  time  again  turning 
his  back  without  hesitation.  True,  The  Orphan  had 
covered  him  when  his  hand  had  streaked  for  his 
tobacco ;  but  the  sheriff  would  have  done  the  same, 
because  the  movement  was  decidedly  hostile,  and  he 
had  been  fortunate  in  not  having  paid  dearly  for 
his  rash  action.  The  Orphan  had  taken  a  chance 
when  he  refrained  from  pulling  the  trigger. 

Charley  continued :  "  Jimmy's  outfit  swear  they'll 
have  a  lynchin'  bee  to  square  things  for  the  Kid. 

53 


The  Orphan 


They  are  plumb  crazy  about  it.  Jimmy  was  a  whole 
lot  liked  by  them,  and  the  foreman  is  going  to  give 
them  a  week  off  with  no  questions  asked.  They 
are  getting  things  ready  now." 

The  sheriff  turned  to  his  companion,  his  hazel 
eyes  aflame  with  anger  at  this  threat  of  lynching 
when  he  had  given  plain  warning  that  such  law 
lessness  would  not  for  one  minute  be  tolerated  by 
him. 

"  We'll  call  on  the  Cross  Bar-8  first,  Charley, 
and  find  out  when  this  lynching  bee  is  due  to  come 
off,"  he  said,  turning  toward  the  northwest.  Char 
ley  looked  surprised  at  the  sudden  change  in  the 
plans,  but  followed  without  comment,  secretly  glad 
that  trouble  was  in  store  for  the  ranch  he  had  no 
use  for. 

After  an  hour  of  fast  riding  they  rode  up  to  the 
corral  of  the  Cross  Bar-8,  and  Shields,  seeing  a 
cowboy  busily  engaged  in  cleaning  a  rifle,  asked  for 
Sneed,  at  the  same  time  making  a  mental  note  of 
the  preparations  which  were  going  on  about  him. 

The  foreman,  as  if  in  answer  to  the  sheriff's 
words,  walked  into  sight  around  the  corral  wall 
and  stepped  forward  eagerly  when  he  saw  who  the 
caller  was. 

54 


The  Second  Offense 


"  I  see  that  you  know  all  about  it,  Sheriff,"  he 
began,  hastily.  "  I've  just  told  the  boys  that  they 
can  go  out  for  him,"  he  continued.  "  They're  get 
ting  ready  now,  and  will  soon  be  on  his  trail." 

"  Yes?  "  coldly  inquired  the  sheriff. 

"  They'll  get  him  if  you  don't,"  assured  the  fore 
man,  who  had  about  as  much  tact  as  a  mule. 

"  I'll  shoot  the  first  man  who  tries  it,"  the  sheriff 
said,  as  he  flecked  a  bit  of  dust  from  his  arm. 

"  What !  "  cried  Sneed  in  astonishment  "  By 

God,  Sheriff,  that's  a  d d  hard  assertion  to 

make!" 

"  And  I  hold  you  responsible,"  continued  the 
sheriff,  leaning  forward  as  if  to  give  weight  to  his 
words. 

The  cowboy  stopped  cleaning  his  rifle  and  stood 
up,  covering  the  sheriff,  a  sneer  on  his  face  and 
anger  in  his  eyes. 

"  If  you're  a-scared,  we  ain't,  by  God!  "  he  cried. 
"  The  Orphan  has  got  away  too  many  times 
already,  and  here  is  where  he  gets  stopped  for  good ! 
When  we  gets  through  with  him  he  won't  shoot  no 
more  friends  of  ourn,  nor  nobody  else's !  " 

Shields  looked  him  squarely  in  the  eyes :  "  If  you 
don't  drop  that  gun  I'll  drop  you,  Bucknell,"  he 

55 


The   Orphan 


said  pleasantly,  and  his  eyes  proclaimed  that  he 
meant  what  he  said. 

Sneed  sprang  forward  and  knocked  the  gun  aside; 

"You  d n  fool!"  he  cried.  "You  ornery, 

silly  fool !  Get  back  to  the  bunk  house  or  I'll  make 
you  wish  you  had  never  seen  that  gun !  Go  on,  get 
the  h — 1  out  of  here  before  you  join  Jimmy!  " 

Then  the  foreman  turned  to  Shields,  feeling  that 
he  had  lost  much  through  the  rashness  of  his  man. 

"  Don't  pay  any  attention  to  that  crazy  yearling, 
Sheriff,"  he  said  earnestly.  "  He's  only  feeling  his 
oats.  But  we  only  wanted  to  round  him  up,"  he 
continued  on  the  main  topic.  "  We  meant  to  turn 
him  over  to  you  after  we'd  got  him.  He's  a 
blasted,  thieving,  murdering  dog,  that's  what  he  is, 
and  he  oughtn't  get  away  this  time!  " 

"  You  keep  out  of  this,  and  keep  your  men  out 
of  it,  too,"  responded  Shields,  turning  away.  "  I 
mean  what  I  say.  Jimmy  started  the  mess  and  got 
the  worst  of  it.  I'll  get  The  Orphan,  or  nobody 
will.  As  long  as  I'm  sheriff  of  this  county  I'll  take 
care  of  my  job  without  any  lynching  parties.  Come 
on,  Charley." 

"  Deputize  some  of  my  boys,  Sheriff ! "  he  begged. 
"  Let  'em  think  they're  doing  something.  The 

56 


The  Second  Offense 


Orphan  is  a  bad  man  to  go  after  alone.  The  boys 
are  so  mad  that  they'll  get  him  if  they  have  to  ride 
through  hell  after  him.  Swear  them  in  and  let 
them  get  him  lawfully." 

"  Yes?  "  retorted  Shields  cynically.  "  And  have 
to  shoot  them  to  keep  them  from  shooting  him?  " 

"  By  God,  Sheriff,"  cried  Sneed,  losing  control 
of  his  temper,  "  this  is  our  fight,  and  we're  going  to 
see  it  through!  We'll  get  that  cur,  sheriff  or  no 
sheriff,  and  when  we  do,  he'll  stretch  rope !  And 
anybody  who  tries  to  stop  us  will  get  hurt!  I 
ain't  making  any  threats,  Sheriff ;  only  telling  plain 
facts,  that's  all." 

"  Then  I'll  be  a  wreck,"  responded  Shields,  still 
smiling.  "  For  I'll  stop  it,  even  if  I  have  to  shoot 
you  first,  which  are  also  plain  facts." 

Sneed's  men  had  been  coming  up  while  they 
talked  and  were  freely  voicing  their  opinions  of 
sheriffs.  Sneed  stepped  close  to  the  peace  officer 
and  laughed,  his  face  flushed  with  foolish  elation 
at  his  strength. 

"  Do  you  see  'em?"  he  asked,  ironically,  indi 
cating  his  men  by  a  sweep  of  his  arm.  "  Do  you 
think  you  could  shoot  me?  " 

The  reply  was  instantaneous.  The  last  word 
57 


The  Orphan 


had  hardly  left  his  lips  before  he  peered  blankly 
into  the  cold,  unreasoning  muzzle  of  a  Colt,  and 
the  sheriff's  voice  softly  laughed  up  above  him. 
The  cowboys  stood  as  if  turned  to  stone,  not  daring 
to  risk  their  foreman's  life  by  a  move,  for  they  did 
not  understand  the  sheriff's  methods  of  arguments, 
never  having  become  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
him. 

"  You  know  me  better  now,  Sneed,"  Shields 
remarked  quietly  as  he  slipped  his  Colt  into  its 
holster.  "  I'm  running  the  law  end  of  the  game 

and  I'll  keep  right  on  running  it  as  I  d d  please 

while  I'm  called  sheriff,  understand?" 

Sneed  was  a  brave  man,  and  he  thoroughly  ap 
preciated  the  clean-cut  courage  which  had  directed 
the  sheriff's  act,  and  he  knew,  then,  that  Shields 
would  keep  his  word.  He  involuntarily  stepped 
back  and  intently  regarded  the  face  above  him, 
seeing  a  not  unpleasant  countenance,  although  it 
was  tanned  by  the  suns  and  beaten  by  the  weather 
of  fifty  years.  The  hazel  eyes  twinkled  and  the  thin 
lips  twitched  in  that  quiet  humor  for  which  the  man 
was  famed;  yet  underlying  the  humor  was  stern, 
unyielding  determination. 

"  You're  shore  nervy,  Sheriff,"  at  length  re- 
58 


The  Second  Offense 


marked  the  foreman.  "  The  boys  are  loco,  but  I'll 
try  to  hold  them." 

"  You'll  hold  them,  or  bury  them/'  responded 
the  sheriff,  and  turning  to  his  companion  he  said: 
"  Now  I'm  with  you,  Charley.  So  long,  Sneed," 
he  pleasantly  called  over  his  shoulder  as  if  there 
had  been  no  unpleasant  disagreement. 

"  So  long,  Sheriff,"  replied  the  foreman,  looking 
after  the  departing  pair  and  hardly  free  from  his 
astonishment.  Then  he  turned  to  his  men :  "  You 
heard  what  he  said,  and  you  saw  what  he  did. 

You  keep  out  of  this,  or  I'll  make  you  d d 

sorry,  if  he  don't.  If  The  Orphan  comes  your  way, 
all  right  and  good.  But  you  let  his  trail  religiously 
alone,  do  you  hear?  " 


59 


CHAPTER   V 

BILL  JUSTIFIES   HIS  CREATION 

BILL  HOWLAND  careened  along  the  stage 
route,  rapidly  leaving  Ford's  Station  in  his 
rear.  He  rolled  through  the  arroyo  on 
alternate  pairs  of  wheels,  splashed  through  the 
Limping  Water,  leaving  it  roiled  and  muddy,  and 
shot  up  the  opposite  bank  with  a  rush.  Before  him 
was  a  stretch  of  a  dozen  miles,  level  as  a  billiard 
table,  and  then  the  route  traversed  a  country  rocky 
and  uneven  and  wound  through  cuts  and  defiles  and 
around  rocky  buttes  of  strange  formation.  This 
continued  for  ten  miles,  and  the  last  defile  cut 
through  a  ridge  of  rock,  called  the  Backbone,  which 
ranged  in  height  from  twenty  to  forty  feet,  smooth, 
unbroken  and  perpendicular  on  its  eastern  face. 
This  ridge  wound  and  twisted  from  the  big  chapar 
ral  twenty  miles  below  the  defile  to  a  branch  of  the 
Limping  Water,  fifteen  miles  above.  And  in  all 
the  thirty-five  miles  there  was  but  a  single  opening, 
the  one  used  by  Bill  and  the  stage. 

60 


Bill  Justifies  His  Creation 


In  crossing  the  level  plain  Bill  could  see  for  miles 
to  either  side  of  him,  but  when  once  in  the  rough 
country  his  view  was  restricted  to  yards,  and  more 
often  to  feet.  It  was  here  that  he  expected  trouble 
if  at  all,  and  he  usually  went  through  it  with  a 
speed  which  was  reckless,  to  say  the  least. 

He  had  just  dismissed  the  possibility  of  meeting 
with  Apaches  as  he  turned  into  the  last  long  defile, 
which  he  was  pleased  to  call  a  canon.  As  he  made 
the  first  turn  he  nearly  fell  from  his  seat  in  astonish 
ment  at  what  he  saw.  Squarely  in  the  center  of 
the  trail  ahead  of  him  was  a  horseman,  who  rode 
the  horse  which  had  formerly  belonged  to  Jimmy 
of  the  Cross  Bar-8,  and  across  the  cut  lay  a  heavy 
piece  of  timber,  one  of  the  dead  trees  which  were 
found  occasionally  at  that  altitude,  and  it  effectively 
barred  the  passing  of  the  stage.  The  horseman 
wore  his  sombrero  far  back  on  his  head  and  a  rifle 
lay  across  his  saddle,  while  two  repeating  Win 
chesters  were  slung  on  either  side  of  his  horse.  One 
startled  look  revealed  the  worst  to  the  driver — The 
Orphan,  the  terrible  Orphan  faced  him  1 

"  Don't  choke — I'm  not  going  to  eat  you," 
assured  the  horseman  with  a  smile.  "  But  I'm 
going  to  smoke  half  of  your  tobacco — and  you  can 

61 


The   Orphan 


bring  me  a  half  pound  when  you  come  back  from 
Sagetown.  Just  throw  it  up  yonder,"  pointing  to 
a  rocky  ledge,  "  and  keep  going  right  ahead." 

Bill  looked  very  much  relieved,  and  hastily  fum 
bled  in  his  hip  pocket,  which  was  a  most  suicidal 
thing  to  do  in  a  hurry ;  but  The  Orphan  didn't  even 
move  at  the  play,  having  judged  the  man  before 
him  and  having  faith  in  his  judgment.  The  hand 
came  out  again  with  a  pouch  of  tobacco,  which  its 
owner  flung  to  the  outlaw.  After  putting  half  of 
it  in  his  own  pouch  and  enclosing  a  coin  to  pay  for 
his  half  pound,  The  Orphan  tossed  it  back  again 
and  then  moved  the  tree  trunk  until  it  fell  to  the 
road,  when  he  dismounted  and  rolled  it  aside. 

"  You  forget  right  now  that  you  have  seen  me  or 
you'll  have  heart  disease  some  day  in  this  place," 
warned  the  horseman,  moving  aside.  Bill  swore 
earnestly  that  at  times  his  memory  was  too  short 
to  even  remember  his  own  name,  and  he  enthusias 
tically  lashed  his  cayuse  sextet.  As  he  swung  out 
on  the  plain  again  he  glanced  furtively  over  his 
shoulder  and  breathed  a  deep  breath  of  relief  when 
he  found  that  the  outlaw  was  not  in  sight.  He 
then  tied  a  knot  in  his  handkerchief  so  as  to  be 
sure  to  remember  to  get  a  half-pound  package  of 

62 


Bill  "Justifies  His  Creation 


tobacco.  A  new  responsibility,  and  one  which  he 
had  never  borne  before,  weighed  upon  him.  He 
must  keep  silent — and  what  a  rich  subject  for  end 
less  conversations !  Talking  material  which  would 
last  him  for  years  must  be  sealed  tightly  within  his 
memory  on  penalty  of  death  if  he  failed  to  keep  it 
secret. 

After  an  uneventful  trip  across  the  open  plain, 
which  passed  so  rapidly  because  of  his  intent 
thoughts  that  he  hardly  realized  it,  he  ripped  into 
Sagetown  with  a  burst  of  speed  and  flung  the  mail 
bag  at  the  station  agent,  after  which  he  hastened  to 
float  the  dust  down  his  throat. 

When  he  met  his  Sagetown  friends  he  had  fairly 
to  choke  down  his  secret,  and  his  aching  desire  to 
create  a  sensation  pained  and  worried  him. 

"  You  made  her  faster  than  usual,  Bill,"  re 
marked  the  bartender  casually.  "  Yore  half-an- 
hour  ahead  of  time,"  he  added  in  a  congratulatory 
tone  as  he  placed  a  bottle  and  glass  before  the  new 
arrival. 

"  Yes,  and  I  had  to  stop,  too,"  Bill  replied,  and 
then  hastily  gulped  down  his  liquor  to  save  himself. 

"  That  so?  "  asked  old  Pop  Westley,  an  habitue 
of  the  saloon.  Pop  Westley  had  fought  through 

63 


The  Orphan 


the  Civil  War  and  never  forgot  to  tell  of  his  expe 
riences,  which  must  have  been  unusually  numerous, 
even  for  four  years  of  hard  campaigning,  if  one 
may  judge  from  the  fact  that  he  never  had  to  repeat, 
and  yet  used  them  as  his  coup  d'etat  in  many  con 
versational  bouts.  "What  was  it,  Injuns?"  he 
asked,  winking  at  the  bartender  as  if  in  prophecy 
as  to  what  the  driver  would  choose  for  his  next  lie. 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  Bill,  groping  for  an  idea  to 
get  him  out  of  trouble.  "  Nope,  just  had  to  lose 
twenty  minutes  rollin'  rocks  out  of  the  canon — they 
must  have  been  a  little  landslide  since  I  went 
through  her  the  last  time.  Some  of  'em  was  purty 
big,  too." 

"  I  thought  you  might  a  had  to  kill  some  Injuns, 
like  you  did  when  they  broke  out  four  years  ago," 
responded  the  bartender  gravely.  "  Tell  us  about 
that  time  you  licked  them  dozen  mad  Apache  war 
riors,  Bill,"  he  requested.  "  That  was  a  blamed 
good  scrap  from  what  I  can  remember." 

"  Oh,  I've  told  you  about  that  scrap  so  much 
I'm  ashamed  to  tell  it  again,"  replied  the  driver, 
wishing  that  he  could  remember  just  what  he  had 
said  about  it,  and  sorry  that  his  memory  was  90 
inferior  to  his  imagination. 


Bill  Justifies  His  Creation 


"  Bet  you  get  scalped  goin'  back,"  pleasantly 
remarked  Johnny  Sands,  who  had  not  fought  in  the 
Civil  War,  but  who  often  ferociously  wished  he  had 
when  old  Pop  Westley  was  telling  of  how  Mead 
took  Vicksburg,  or  some  other  such  bit  of  history. 
Pop  must  have  been  connected  to  a  flying  regiment, 
for  he  had  fought  under  every  general  on  the  Union 
side. 

"  You're  on  for  the  drinks,  Johnny,"  answered 
Bill  promptly,  feeling  that  it  would  be  a  double  joy 
to  win.  "  The  war-whoops  never  lived  who  could 
scalp  Bill  Howland,  and  don't  forget  it,  neither,'1 
he  boastfully  averred  as  he  made  for  the  door,  very 
anxious  to  get  away  from  that 'awful  gnawing  temp 
tation  to  open  their  eyes  wide  about  his  recent  expe 
rience. 

"  Then  The  Orphan  will  get  you,  shore,"  came 
from  Pop  Westley.  Bill  jumped  and  slammed  the 
door  so  hard  that  it  shook  the  building. 

He  saw  that  his  sextet  was  being  properly  fed 
and  watered  for  the  return  trip,  which  would  not 
take  place  until  the  next  day.  But  a  trifle  like 
twenty-four  hours  had  no  effect  on  Bill  under  his 
present  stress  of  excitement,  and  he  fooled  about 
the  coach  as  if  it  was  his  dearest  possession,  inspect- 

65 


The   Orphan 


ing  the  king-bolt,  running-gear  and  whiffletrees  with 
anxious  eyes.  He  wanted  no  break-down,  because 
the  Apaches  might  be  farther  north  than  was  their 
custom.  That  done  he  took  his  rifle  apart  and  thor 
oughly  cleaned  and  oiled  it,  seeing  that  the  maga 
zine  was  full  to  the  end.  Then  he  had  his  supper 
and  went  straight  therefrom  to  bed,  not  daring  to 
again  meet  his  friends  for  fear  of  breaking  his 
promise  to  The  Orphan. 

At  dawn  he  drew  up  beside  the  small  station  and 
waited  for  the  arrival  of  the  train,  which  even  then 
was  a  speck  at  the  meeting  place  of  the  rails  on  the 
horizon. 

The  station  agent  sauntered  over  to  him  and 
grinned. 

"  I  guess  I  will  get  that  telegraph  line  after  all, 
Bill,"  he  remarked  happily.  "  I  heard  that  the  divi 
sion  superintendent  wanted  to  get  word  to  me  in  a 
hurry  the  other  day,  and  raised  the  devil  when  he 
couldn't.  I've  been  fighting  for  a  wire  to  civiliza 
tion  for  three  years,  and  now  I  reckon  she'll  come." 

"  I  always  said  you  ought  to  have  a  telegraph 
line  out  here,"  Bill  replied.  "  Suppose  that  train 
should  run  off  the  track  some  day,  what  would 
they  do,  hey?" 

66 


Bill  Justifies  His  Creation 


"  Huh,  that  train  never  goes  fast  enough  to  run 
off  of  anything,"  retorted  the  station  agent  "  She'd 
stop  dead  if  she  hit  a  coyote — by  gosh !  Here  she 
comes  now!  What  do  you  think  of  that,  eh? 
Half-an-hour  ahead  of  time,  too  I  Must  be  trying 
to  hit  up  a  better  average  than  she's  had  for  the 
last  year.  She's  usually  due  three  hours'  late,"  he 
added  in  bewilderment.  "  She  owes  the  world 
about  a  month — must  have  left  the  day  before  by 
mistake." 

"  Johnny  Sands  says  he  raced  her  once  for  ten 
miles,  and  beat  it  a  mile,"  replied  Bill,  crossing  his 
legs  and  yawning.  Then  he  began  one  of  his  end 
less  talks,  and  the  agent  hastily  departed  and  left 
him  to  himself. 

When  the  train  finally  stopped  at  its  destination, 
after  running  past  the  station  and  having  to  back 
to  the  platform,  three  women  alighted  and  looked 
around.  Seeing  the  stage,  they  ordered  their  bag 
gage  transferred  to  it  and  gave  Bill  a  shock  by  their 
appearance. 

"  Is  this  the  stage  which  runs  to  Ford's  Sta 
tion?  "  the  eldest  asked  of  Bill. 

Bill  fumbled  at  his  sombrero  and  tore  it  from  his 
head  as  he  replied. 


The   Orphan 


4  Yes,  sir,  er — mam!"  he  said,  confusedly. 
"  Are  you  Sheriff's  sister,  ma'am?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered.  "  Why  do  you  ask?  Has 
anything  happened  to  him  in  this  awful  country?  " 
she  asked  in  alarm. 

"  No,  ma'am,  not  yet,"  responded  Bill  in  confu 
sion.  "  He  just  didn't  expect  you  'til  the  next  train, 
ma'am,  that's  all.  He  was  going  to  meet  you  then." 

"  Now,  isn't  that  just  like  a  man  ?  "  she  asked  her 
companions.  "  I  distinctly  remember  that  I  wrote 
him  I  would  come  on  the  twenty-fourth.  How 
stupid  of  him!  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  you  did,"  interposed  Bill,  eagerly. 
"  But  this  is  only  the  twenty-first,  ma'am." 

She  refused  to  notice  the  correction  and  waved 
her  hand  toward  the  coach. 

"  Get  in,  dears,"  she  said.  "  I  do  so  hope  it 
isn't  dirty  and  uncomfortable,  and  we  have  so  far 
to  go  in  it,  too.  Thirty  miles — think  of  it!  " 

Bill  thought  of  it,  but  refrained  from  offering 
correction.  If  Shields  had  said  it  was  thirty  miles 
when  he  knew  it  was  eighty  that  was  Shields'  affair, 
and  he  didn't  care  to  have  any  unpleasantness.  He 
had  offered  correction  about  the  date,  and  that  was 
enough  for  him.  Clambering  down  heavily  he 

68 


Bill  Justifies  His  Creation 


opened  the  side  door  of  the  vehicle  and  then  helped 
the  station  agent  put  the  trunks  and  valises  and  hat 
boxes  on  the  hanging  shelf  behind  the  coach  and 
saw  that  they  were  lashed  securely  into  place.  Then 
he  threw  the  mail  bag  upon  his  seat,  climbed  after 
it  and  started  on  his  journey  with  a  whoop  and 
rush,  for  this  trip  was  to  be  a  record-breaker. 
Shields  had  said  it  was  thirty  miles,  and  it  behove 
the  driver  to  make  it  seem  as  short  as  possible. 

The  unexpected  arrival  of  the  women  had  driven 
everything  else  from  his  mind,  even  The  Orphan, 
and  after  he  had  covered  a  mile  he  had  a  strong 
desire  to  smoke.  Giving  his  whip  a  jerk  he  threw 
it  along  the  top  of  the  coach  and  slipped  the  handle 
under  his  arm.  Then  he  felt  for  his  pouch,  and 
as  his  fingers  closed  upon  it  he  suddenly  stiffened 
and  gasped.  He  had  forgotten  The  Orphan's  half 
pound!  Swearing  earnestly  and  badly  frightened 
at  the  close  call  he  had  from  incurring  the  anger  of 
a  man  like  the  outlaw,  he  pulled  on  the  reins  with  a 
suddenness  which  caused  the  sextet  to.  lay  back  their 
ears  and  indulge  in  a  few  heart-felt  kicks.  But  the 
darting  whip  kept  peace  and  he  swung  around  and 
returned  to  town. 

As  he  drove  past  the  station  Mary  Shields,  the 


The   Orphan 


sheriff's  elder  sister,  poked  her  head  out  of  the  door 
and  called  to  him. 

"  Driver !  "  she  exclaimed.     "  Driver !  " 

Bill  craned  his  neck  and  looked  down. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  he  replied  anxiously. 

"  Are  we  there  already?  "  she  asked. 

"  Why,  no,  ma'am,  it's  ei — thirty  miles  yet,"  he 
responded  as  he  sprang  to  the  ground. 

"  Then  where  are  we,  for  goodness'  sake?  " 

"  Back  in  Sagetown,  ma'am,"  he  hurried  replied. 
"  I  shore  forgot  something,"  he  added  in  explana 
tion  of  the  return  as  he  ran  toward  the  saloon. 

She  turned  to  her  companions  with  a  gesture  of 
despair: 

"  Isn't  it  awful,"  she  asked,  "  what  a  terrible 
thing  drinking  is  ?  A  most  detestable  habit !  Here 
we  are  back  to  where  we  started  from  and  just 
because  our  driver  must  have  a  drink  of  nasty 
liquor !  Why,  we  would  have  been  there  by  this 
time.  I  will  most  assuredly  speak  to  James  about 
this!" 

"  Well,  I  suppose  we  may  go  on  now !  "  she 
exclaimed  as  Bill  bolted  into  sight  again,  holding  a 
package  firmly  in  his  two  hands.  "  I  suppose  he 
feels  quite  capable  of  driving  now." 

70 


Bill  Justifies  His  Creation 


Bill,  blissfully  ignorant  of  the  remarks  he  had 
called  forth,  tossed  the  tobacco  upon  the  mail  bag 
and  climbed  to  his  seat  again.  The  long  whip 
hissed  and  cracked  as  he  bellowed  to  the  team,  and 
once  more  they  started  for  Ford's  Station. 

The  passengers  had  all  they  could  do  to  keep 
their  seats  because  of  the  gymnastics  of  the  erratic 
stage.  Bill,  who  had  always  found  delight  in  see 
ing  how  near  he  could  come  to  missing  things  and 
who  was  elated  at  the  joy  of  getting  over  the  worst 
parts  of  the  trail  with  speed,  decided  that  this  was 
a  rare  and  most  auspicious  occasion  to  show  just 
what  he  could  do  in  the  way  of  fancy  driving.  The 
return  to  town  had  spoiled  his  chances  for  a  record, 
but  he  still  could  do  some  high-class  work  with  the 
reins.  The  weight  of  the  baggage  on  the  tail-board 
bothered  him  until  he  discovered  that  it  acted  as  a 
tail  to  his  Concord  kite,  and  when  he  learned  that 
he  joyously  essayed  feats  which  he  had  long 
dreamed  of  doing.  The  result  was  fully  appre 
ciated  by  the  terrified  passengers  who,  choking  with 
the  dust  which  forced  its  way  in  to  them,  could  only 
hold  fast  to  whatever  came  to  their  grasp  and  pray 
that  they  would  survive. 

As  he  passed  a  peculiarly  formed  clump  of  organ 


The  Orphan 


cacti,  which  he  regarded  as  being  his  half-way 
mark,  he  happened  to  glance  behind,  and  his  face 
blanched  in  a  sudden  fear  which  gripped  his  heart 
in  an  icy  grasp. 

He  leaped  to  his  feet,  wrapping  the  reins  about 
his  wrists,  and  the  "blacksnake"  coiled  and  writhed 
and  hissed.  Its  reports  sounded  like  those  of  a 
gun,  and  every  time  it  straightened  out  a  horse 
lost  a  bit  of  hair  and  skin.  Both  of  the  leaders  had 
limp  and  torn  ears,  and  a  sudden  terror  surged 
through  the  team,  causing  their  eyes  to  dilate  and 
grow  red.  The  driver's  voice,  strong  and  full, 
rang  out  in  blood-curdling  whoops,  which  ended  in 
the  wailing  howl  of  a  coyote,  wonderfully  well  imi 
tated.  The  combination  of  voice  and  whip  was 
too  much,  and  the  six  horses,  maddened  by  the 
terrible  sting  of  the  lash  and  the  frightful,  haunting 
howl,  became  frenzied  and  bolted. 

Braced  firmly  on  the  footboard,  poised  carefully 
and  with  just  the  right  tension  on  the  reins,  the 
driver  scanned  the  trail  before  him,  avoiding  as  best 
he  could  the  rocks  and  deep  ruts,  and  watching 
alertly  for  a  stumble.  His  sombrero  had  deserted 
him  and  his  long  brown  hair  snapped  behind  him 
in  the  wind.  Bill  was  frightened,  but  not  for  him- 

72 


Bill  Justifies  His  Creation 


self  alone.  With  all  his  bravado  he  was  built  of 
good  timber,  and  his  one  thought  was  for  the 
women  under  his  care.  He  unconsciously  prayed 
that  they  might  not  be  brought  face  to  face  with  the 
realization  of  what  menaced  them;  that  they  would 
not  learn  why  the  coach  lurched  so  terribly;  that 
the  trunk  which  obstructed  the  back  window  of  the 
coach  would  not  shift  and  give  them  a  sight  of  the 
danger.  Oh,  that  the  running  gear  held!  That 
the  king-bolt,  new,  thank  God,  prov^J  the  words 
of  the  boasting  blacksmith  to  be  true!  He  soon 
came  to  the  beginning  of  a  three-hundred-yard 
stretch  of  perfect  road  and  he  hazarded  a  quick 
backward  glance.  Instantly  his  eyes  were  to  the 
front  again,  but  his  brain  retained  the  picture  he 
had  seen,  retained  it  perfectly  and  in  wonderful 
clearness.  He  saw  that  the  Apaches  were  no  longer 
a  mile  away,  but  that  they  had  gained  upon  him  a 
very  little,  so  very  little  that  only  an  eye  accustomed 
to  gauging  changing  distances  could  have  noticed 
the  difference.  And  he  also  saw  that  the  group 
was  no  longer  compact,  but  that  it  was  already 
spreading  out  into  the  dreaded,  deadly  crescent,  a 
crescent  with  the  best  horses  at  the  horns,  which 
would  endeavor  to  sweep  forward  and  past  the 

73 


T h e   Orphan 


coach,  drawing  closer  together  until  the  circle  was 
complete,  with  the  stage  as  the  center. 

Another  yell  burst  from  him,  and  again  and 
again  the  whip  writhed  and  hissed  and  cracked,  and 
a  new  burst  of  speed  was  the  reward.  Well  it  was 
that  the  horses  were  the  best  and  most  enduring  to 
be  found  on  the  range.  He  was  dependent  on  his 
team,  he  and  his  passengers.  He  could  not  hope 
to  take  up  his  rifle  until  the  last  desperate  stand. 
Oh,  if  he  only  had  the  sheriff,  the  cool,  laughing, 
accurate  sheriff  with  him  to  lie  against  the  seat  and 
shoot  for  his  sisters !  Already  the  bullets  were 
dropping  behind  him,  but  he  did  not  know  of  it. 
They  dropped,  as  yet,  many  yards  too  short,  and  he 
could  not  hear  the  flat  reports.  The  wind  which 
roared  and  whistled  past  his  ears  spared  him  that. 

A  stumble!  But  up  again  and  without  injury, 
for  a  master  hand  held  the  reins,  a  hand  as  cunning 
as  the  eyes  were  calculating.  Could  Bill's  scoffing 
friends  see  him  now  their  scoffing  would  freeze  on 
lips  open  in  admiring  astonishment.  If  he  attained 
nothing  more  in  his  life  he  was  justifying  his  cre 
ation.  He  was  doing  his  best,  and  doing  it  wonder 
fully  well.  Long  since  had  fear  left  him.  He  was 
now  only  a  superb  driver,  an  alert,  quick-thinking 

74 


Bill  Justifies  His  Creation 


master  of  his  chosen  trade.  He  thrilled  with  a 
peculiar  elation,  for  was  he  not  playing  his  hand 
against  death?  A  lone  hand  and  with  no  hope  of 
a  lucky  draw.  All  he  could  hope  for  was  that  he 
be  not  unlucky  and  lose  the  game  because  of  the 
weakness  of  a  wheel,  or  the  traces,  or  that  new  king 
bolt;  that  the  splendid,  ugly,  terrorized  units  of  his 
sextet  would  last  until  he  had  gained  the  canon, 
where  the  stage  would  nearly  block  the  narrow 
opening,  and  where  he  could  exchange  reins  for 
rifle! 

Within  the  coach  three  women  were  miserably 
huddled  in  a  mass  on  the  floor.  Two  would  be 
more  proper,  because  the  third,  a  slim  girl  of  nine 
teen,  was  temporarily  out  of  her  misery,  having 
fainted,  which  was  a  boon  denied  to  her  compan 
ions.  Thrown  from  side  to  side  as  if  they  were 
straws  in  weight,  they  first  crashed  into  one  wall 
and  then  into  the  other,  buffeted  from  the  edge  of 
the  front  seat  to  that  of  the  rear  one.  Bruised 
and  bleeding  and  terrified,  they  dumbly  prayed  for 
deliverance  from  the  madman  up  above  them. 

The  driver's  eye  caught  sight  of  the  turn,  which 
lay  ten  miles  northeast  of  the  canon — then  he  had 
passed  it. 

75 


The    Orphan 


"  Only  ten  miles  more,  bronchs !  "  he  shouted, 
imploringly,  beseechingly.  u  Hold  it,  boys  1  Hold 
it,  pets!  Only  ten  miles  more!  "  he  repeated  until 
the  left-hand  leader  lurched  forward  and  lost  its 
footing.  Another  bit  of  masterly  manipulation  of 
the  reins  saved  it  from  going  down,  and  again  the 
coyote  yell  rang  out  in  all  of  its  acute,  quavering, 
hair-raising  mournfulness.  The  blacksnake  again 
and  again  mercilessly  leaped  and  struck,  and  an 
other  wonderful  burst  of  speed  rewarded  him. 

His  heart  suddenly  went  out  to  his  horses,  as  he 
realized  what  speed  they  were  making  and  had  been 
holding  for  so  long  a  time,  and  he  swore  to  treat 
them  better  than  they  had  ever  known  if  they  pulled 
him  safely  to  the  mouth  of  the  canon. 

A  second  backward  glance,  forced  from  him  be 
cause  of  the  awful  uncertainty  at  his  back,  because 
if  it  was  the  last  thing  he  ever  did  he  must  look 
behind  him  as  a  child  looks  back  into  the  awful 
darkness  of  the  room,  caused  his  face  to  be  con 
vulsed  with  smiles,  sudden  and  sincere.  He  shouted 
madly  in  his  joy  at  what  he  saw,  dancing  up  and 
down  regardless  of  his  perilous  footing,  bending  his 
knees  with  a  recklessness  almost  criminal,  as  he 
uncoiled  the  hissing  blacksnake  high  up  in  the  air. 


Bill  Justifies  His  Creation 


Again  and  again  the  whistling,  hissing  length 
of  braided  rawhide  curled  and  straightened  and 
cracked,  faster  and  faster  until  the  reports  almost 
merged.  He  tossed  his  head  and  laughed  wildly, 
hysterically,  and  danced  as  only  a  man  can  dance 
when  eased  of  a  terrible  nervous  tension ;  the  rasp 
ing  of  the  icy,  grasping  fingers  of  Death  along  his 
back  suddenly  ceased,  and  there  came  to  him  assur 
ance  of  life  and  vengeance.  Turning  again  he 
hurled  the  writhing  length  of  his  whip  at  the  yelling 
Apaches,  snapping  the  rifle-like  reports  at  their 
faces,  cursing  them  in  shouted  words;  hot,  joyous, 
cynical,  taunting  words  fresh  from  the  soul  of  him, 
throbbing  with  his  hatred;  venomous,  contemptu 
ous,  scathing,  too  heartfelt  to  be  over-profane. 

"  Come  on,  d n  you !  Your  slide  to  h — 1 

is  greased  now!  Come  on,  you  wolves !  You 
cheap,  blind  vultures!  Come  on!  Come  on!!"  he 
yelled,  well  nigh  out  of  his  senses  from  the  reaction. 

uYes,  yell!  Yell,  d n  you!"  he  shouted  as 

they  replied  to  his  taunts.  "Yell!  Shoot  your 
tin  guns  while  you  can,  for  you'll  soon  be  so  full  of 
lead  you'll  stop  forever!  Come  on!  COME  ON!  " 

They  came.  All  their  energies  were  bent  toward 
the  grotesque  figure  that  reviled  them.  They  could 

77 


The   Orphan 


not  catch  his  words,  but  their  eyes  flashed  at  what 
they  could  see.  Dust  arose  in  huge,  low  clouds 
behind  them,  and  they  gained  rapidly  for  a  time, 
but  only  for  a  time,  for  their  mounts  had  covered 
many  miles  in  the  last  few  days  and  were  jaded  and 
without  their  usual  strength  because  of  insufficient 
food.  But  they  gained  enough  to  drop  their  shots 
on  the  coach,  although  accurate  shooting  at  the  pace 
they  were  keeping  was  beyond  their  skill. 

Puffs  of  dust  spurted  from  the  plain  in  front  of 
the  team  and  arose  beside  it,  and  a  jagged  splinter 
of  seasoned  ash  whizzed  past  the  driver's  ear.  A 
long,  gray  furrow  suddenly  appeared  in  the  end  of 
the  seat  and  holes  began  to  show  in  the  woodwork 
of  the  stage.  One  bullet,  closer  than  the  others, 
almost  tore  the  reins  from  the  driver's  hands  as  it 
hit  the  loose  end  of  leather  which  flapped  in  the  air. 
Its  jerk  caused  him  to  turn  again  and  renew  his 
verbal  cautery,  tears  in  his  eyes  from  the  fervor  of 
his  madness. 

"  Hi-yi !  Whoop-e-e !  "  he  shouted  at  his  strain 
ing,  steaming  sextet.  "  Keep  it  up,  bronchs  I  Hold 
her  for  ten  minutes  more,  boys !  We'll  win !  We'll 
win!  We'll  laugh  them  into  h — 1  yet!  We'll 
dance  on  their  painted  faces!  Keep  her  steady! 

78 


Bill  Justifies  His  Creation 


You're  all  right,  every  d d  one  of  you !     Hold 

her  steady!    Whoop-e-e!" 

A  new  factor  had  drawn  cards,  and  the  new 
factor  could  play  his  cards  better  than  any  two  men 
under  that  washed-out,  faded  blue  sky. 


79 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE   ORPHAN   OBEYS   AN   IMPULSE 

WHEN  Sneed  promised  to  try  to  restrain 
his  men  he  spoke  in  good  faith,  and  when 
he  discovered  that  half  of  them  were 
missing  his  anger  began  to  rise.     But  he  was  help 
less  now  because  they  were  beyond  his  reach,  so  he 
could  only  hope  that  they  would  not  meet  the  sheriff, 
not  only  because  of  the  displeasure  of  the  peace  offi 
cer,  but  also  because  good  cowboys  were  hard  to 
obtain,  and  he  knew  what  such  a  meeting  might 
easily  develop  into. 

The  foreman  knew  that  Ford's  Station  bore  him 
and  his  ranch  no  love  and  that  if  the  sheriff  should 
meet  with  armed  resistance  and,  possibly,  mishap 
at  the  hands  of  any  members  of  the  Cross  Bar-8, 
that  trouble  would  be  the  tune  for  him  and  his  men 
to  dance  to.  Angrily  striding  to  and  fro  in  front 
of  the  bunk  house  he  gave  a  profane  and  pointed 
lecture  to  several  of  his  men  who  stood  near, 

So 


The   Orphan   Obeys  an  Impulse 

abashed  at  their  foreman's  anger.  He  suddenly 
stopped  and  looked  toward  the  rocky  stretch  of  land 
and  hurled  epithets  at  what  he  feared  might  be  tak 
ing  place  in  its  defiles  and  among  its  rocks  and 
bowlders. 

"  Fools !  "  he  shouted,  shaking  his  fist  at  the 
Backbone.  "  Fools,  to  hunt  a  man  like  that  on  his 
own  ground,  and  in  the  way  you'll  do  it!  You 
can't  keep  together  for  long,  and  as  sure  as  you 
separate,  some  of  you  will  be  missing  to-night !  " 

Had  he  been  able,  he  would  have  seen  six  cow 
boys,  who  were  keeping  close  together  as  they 
worked  their  way  southward,  exploring  every 
arroyo  and  examining  every  thicket  and  bowlder. 
Their  Colts  were  in  their  hands  and  their  nerves 
were  tensed  to  the  snapping  point. 

They  finally  came  to  the  stage  road  and,  after  a 
brief  consultation,  plunged  into  it  and  scrambled  up 
the  opposite  bank,  where  they  left  one  of  their  num 
ber  on  guard  while  they  continued  on  their  search. 
The  guard  found  concealment  behind  a  huge  bowl 
der  which  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  canon  above  the 
entrance.  He  lighted  a  cigarette,  and  the  thin  wisps 
of  pale  blue  smoke  slowly  made  their  way  above 
him,  twisting  and  turning,  halting  for  an  instant, 

81 


The  Orphan 


and  then  speeding  upward  as  straight  as  a  rod.  It 
was  strong  tobacco  and  very  aromatic,  and  when  the 
wind  caught  it  up  in  filmy  clouds  and  carried  it 
away  it  could  be  detected  for  many  feet. 

Five  minutes  had  passed  since  the  searchers  had 
become  lost  to  sight  to  the  south  when  something 
moved  on  the  other  side  of  the  canon  and  then 
became  instantly  quiet  as  the  smoke  streamed  up. 
The  guard  was  cleverly  hidden  from  sight,  but  he 
felt  that  he  must  smoke,  for  time  passed  slowly  for 
him.  Again  something  moved,  this  time  behind  a 
thin  clump  of  mesquite.  Gradually  it  took  on  the 
outlines  of  a  man,  and  he  was  intently  watching 
the  tell-tale  vapor,  the  odor  of  which  had  warned 
him  in  time. 

Retreating,  he  was  soon  lost  to  sight,  and  a  few 
minutes  later  he  peered  through  a  thin  thicket  which 
stood  on  the  edge  of  the  canon  wall.  As  he  did  so 
the  guard  stuck  his  head  out  from  the  shelter  of  his 
bowlder  and  glanced  along  the  trail.  Again  seek 
ing  his  cover  he  finished  his  cigarette  and  lighted 
another. 

"  He  won't  look  again  for  a  few  minutes,  the 
fool,"  muttered  the  other  as  he  dropped  into  the 
road  and  darted  across  it.  After  a  bit  of  cautious 

82 


The  Orphan   Obeys  an  Impulse 

climbing  he  gained  the  top  of  the  canon  wall  and 
again  became  lost  to  sight. 

Still  the  smoke  ascended  fitfully  from  behind  the 
bowlder,  and  the  prowler  gradually  drew  near  it, 
at  last  gaining  the  side  opposite  the  smoker.  He 
crouched  and  slowly  crawled  around  it,  his  left 
hand  holding  a  Colt;  his  right,  a  lariat.  As  the 
guard  again  turned  to  examine  the  lower  end  of 
the  canon  his  eyes  looked  into  a  steady  gun,  and 
while  his  wits  were  rallying  to  his  aid  the  rope 
leaped  at  him  and  neatly  dropped  over  his  shoul 
ders,  pinning  his  arms  to  his  side.  It  twitched  and 
a  loop  formed  in  it,  running  swiftly  and  almost  hori 
zontally.  It  whipped  over  his  head  and  tightened 
about  his  throat,  while  another  loop  sped  after  it 
and  assisted  in  throttling  the  puncher.  Then  the 
lariat  twitched  and  whirled  and  loops  ran  along  it 
and  fastened  over  the  guard's  wrists,  rapidly  get 
ting  shorter;  and  when  it  ceased,  its  wielder  was 
brought  to  the  side  of  his  trussed  victim.  The 
bound  man  was  turning  purple  in  the  face  and  neck 
and  his  captor,  hastily  crowding  the  guard's  own 
neck-kerchief  into  the  open,  gasping  mouth,  released 
the  throat  clutch  of  the  rawhide  and  then  securely 
fixed  the  gag  into  place. 

83 


The   Orphan 


Roughly  dragging  his  captive  to  a  mass  of  debris 
he  tore  it  apart  and  dragged  and  pushed  the  man 
into  it,  after  which  he  pushed  the  rubbish  back  into 
place  and  then  ran  to  the  bowlder,  where  he  cov 
ered  all  tracks.  Picking  up  the  puncher's  revolver 
he  took  the  cylinder  from  it  and  hurled  it  far  out 
on  the  plain,  throwing  the  frame  across  the  defile 
into  a  tangled  mass  of  mesquite.  Looking  care 
fully  about  him,  to  be  sure  he  had  not  overlooked 
anything,  he  disappeared  in  the  direction  from 
which  he  had  come. 

He  again  appeared  in  the  canon,  and  ran  swiftly 
along  it  until  he  came  to  the  tracks  made  by  the 
guard's  horse,  which  he  followed  into  an  arroyo 
and  where  he  found  the  animal  hobbled.  Loosen 
ing  the  hobbles  he  threw  them  over  the  horse's 
neck  and  sprang  into  the  saddle.  He  picked  his 
way  carefully  until  he  had  reached  the  level  plain, 
when  he  cantered  northward,  keeping  close  to  the 
rock  wall  of  the  Backbone  to  avoid  being  seen  by 
the  searchers.  When  he  had  put  a  dozen  miles 
behind  him  he  turned  abruptly  to  the  east,  soon 
becoming  lost  to  sight  behind  the  scattered  chap 
arrals. 

The  Orphan,  surmounting  a  rise,  looked  to  the 


The  Orphan   Obeys  an  Impulse 

southwest  and  saw  something  which  almost  caused 
his  hair  to  rise,  and  raising  hair  was  not  the  rule 
with  him,  which  latter  is  mentioned  to  give  proper 
emphasis  to  the  seriousness  of  what  he  looked  upon. 
He  leaped  to  the  ground  and  saw  that  the  cinches 
were  securely  fastened,  after  which  he  vaulted  back 
into  the  saddle,  and,  instead  of  offering  prayer  for 
success,  sent  up  profanity  at  the  possibility  of 
failure. 

Two  miles  to  the  southwest  of  him  he  saw  six 
horses  flattened  almost  to  earth  in  keeping  the 
speed  they  had  attained  and  were  holding.  Back 
of  them  lurched  and  rocked  and  heaved  the  sun- 
bleached  coach,  dull  gray  and  dusty,  its  tall  driver 
standing  up  to  his  work,  hatless  and  with  his  arm 
rapidly  rising  and  falling  as  he  sent  the  cruel  whip 
cruelly  home.  Behind  the  stage  whipped  the  bag 
gage  flap,  a  huge  leathern  apron  for  the  protection 
of  luggage,  standing  out  horizontally  because  of  the 
rush  of  wind  caused  by  the  speed  of  the  coach.  It 
flapped  defiantly  at  what  so  tenaciously  pursued  it. 
A  thousand  yards  to  the  rear,  riding  in  crescent  for 
mation,  the  horns  now  far  apart  and  well  ahead  of 
the  center,  were  five  arm-  and  weapon-waving 
bronzed  enthusiasts  whose  war  paint  could  just  be 

85 


The   Orphan 


discerned  by  The  Orphan's  good  eyes  and  field 
glasses. 

As  yet,  the  reason  for  the  lifting  hair  has  not 
been  disclosed,  because  The  Orphan  was  proud  in 
his  belief  that  he  had  few  nerves  and  a  dormant 
sympathy,  and  this  scene  alone  would  not  have 
aroused  much  sympathy  in  his  heart  for  the  driver, 
and  neither  would  it  have  changed  the  malevolent 
expression  which  disfigured  his  face,  an  expression 
caused  by  the  remembrance  of  six  cowboys  who  had 
searched  for  him  as  if  he  was  a  cowardly,  cattle- 
killing  coyote.  But  the  exuberant  baggage-flap 
revealed  two  trunks,  three  valises  and  a  pile  of 
white  cardboard  boxes;  and  as  if  this  was  not 
enough  for  a  man  adept  at  sign  reading,  the  door  of 
the  coach  suddenly  became  unfastened  and  alter 
nately  swung  open  and  shut  as  the  lurching  of  the 
coach  affected  it.  And  through  the  intermittent 
opening  he  could  see  a  mass  of  gray  and  brown  and 
blue. 

The  Orphan  had  spent  ten  years  of  his  life  bat 
tling  against  the  hardest  kinds  of  odds,  and  his 
brain  had  foresworn  long  methods  of  thinking  and 
had  adopted  short  cuts  to  conclusions.  His  mental 
processes  were  sharp,  quick  and  acted  instantly  on 

86 


The  Orphan   Obeys  an  Impulse 

his  nerves,  often  completing  an  action  before  he 
became  clearly  conscious  of  its  need.  He  forgot 
the  pleasant  sheriff  and  the  unpleasant,  blundering 
cowboys  who,  very  probably,  were  now  engaged  in 
wondering  where  their  companion  had  gone;  and 
he  forgot  his  determination  to  return  and  free  that 
puncher.  He  asked  himself  no  questions  as  to  why 
or  how,  but  simply  sunk  his  spurs  half  an  inch  into 
a  horse  that  had  peculiar  and  fixed  ideas  about  their 
use,  and  that  now  bucked,  pitched  and  galloped 
forward  because  its  rider  had  suddenly  decided 
to  save  those  gray  and  brown  and  blue  dresses. 

The  Apaches  had  passed  the  point  immediately 
south  of  him  and  were  now  more  to  the  west,  going 
at  right  angles  to  the  course  he  took.  They  were 
so  intent  upon  gaining  yard  upon  yard  that  they 
did  not  look  to  the  side — their  thoughts  were  cen 
tered  on  the  tall,  lanky  man  who  stood  up  against 
the  sky  and  cursed  them,  and  whose  hat  they  had 
passed  miles  back.  As  he  turned  and  stole  the 
look  at  them  which  had  so  pleased  him,  they  only 
waved  guns  and  wasted  cartridges  more  recklessly, 
yelling  savagely. 

Down  from  the  north  charged  a  brown,  a  dirty 
brown  horse,  and  it  was  comparatively  fresh.  It 

8? 


The   Orphan 


gained  steadily,  silently,  and  its  gains  were  meas 
ured  in  yards  to  each  minute  it  ran,  since  it  was 
coming  at  a  sharp  angle.  Astride  of  it  and  lying 
along  its  neck  was  a  man  whose  spurs  and  quirt 
urged  it  to  its  uttermost  effort.  Soon  the  man 
straightened  up  in  his  saddle,  the  horse  braced  its 
legs  and  slid  to  a  stand  as  a  rifle  arose  to  the  rider's 
shoulder,  and  at  the  shot  the  animal  leaped  for 
ward  at  its  top  speed.  A  puff  of  smoke  flashed  past 
the  marksman's  head  to  mingle  with  the  dust  cloud 
in  his  wake,  and  the  nearest  brave,  who  was  the  last 
in  the  crescent,  dropped  sprawlingly  to  the  ground 
and  rolled  rapidly  several  times.  His  horse,  freed 
of  its  burden,  ran  off  at  an  angle  and  was  soon  left 
behind.  The  excitement  of  the  chase  and  the  noise 
of  the  hoof  beats  of  their  own  horses  and  of  the 
reports  of  their  own  rifles  effectually  lost  the  report 
of  the  shot  and  soon  another,  and  nearest,  Apache 
also  plunged  to  the  plain.  This  time  the  freed 
horse  shot  ahead  and  ranged  alongside  the  wearer 
of  the  head-dress,  who  turned  in  his  saddle  and 
looked  back.  His  eyesight  was  good,  but  not  good 
enough  to  see  the  .5O-caliber  slug  which  passed 
through  his  abdomen  and  tore  the  ear  of  another 
warrior's  horse. 

88 


The  Orphan   Obeys  an  Impulse 

The  rider  of  the  horse  owning  the  mutilated  ear 
looked  quickly  backward,  screamed  a  warning  and 
war  cry  all  in  one  and  began  to  shoot  rapidly.  His 
surprised  companion  followed  suit  as  the  coach 
came  to  a  stand,  and  another  rifle,  long  silent,  took 
a  hand  in  the  dispute  with  a  vim  as  if  to  make  up 
for  lost  time.  The  first  warrior  fell,  shot  through 
by  both  rifles,  and  the  other,  emptying  his  maga 
zine  at  the  new  factor,  who  was  very  busily  engaged 
in  extracting  a  jammed  cartridge,  wheeled  his  pony 
about  and  fled  toward  the  south,  panic-stricken  by 
the  accuracy  of  the  newcomer  and  terrorized  by  the 
awful  execution.  But  the  Apache's  last  shot  nearly 
cleaned  the  sheriff's  slate,  grazing  The  Orphan's 
temple  and  stunning  him:  a  fraction  of  an  inch 
more  to  the  right  would  have  cheated  the  Cross 
Bar-8  of  any  chance  of  revenge. 

Bill,  still  holding  the  rifle,  leaped  to  the  sand 
and  ran  to  where  his  rescuer  lay  huddled  in  the 
dust  of  the  plain. 

"  I've  got  yore  smoking,"  he  exclaimed  breath 
lessly,  at  last  getting  rid  of  his  mental  burden. 
Then  he  stopped  short,  swore,  and  bent  over  the 
figure,  and  grasping  the  body  firmly  by  neck  and 
thigh,  slung  it  over  his  shoulders  and  staggered 

89 


The  Orphan 


toward  the  coach,  his  progress  slow  and  laborious 
because  of  the  deep  sand  and  dust.  As  he  neared 
his  objective  he  glanced  up  and  saw  that  his  pas 
sengers  had  left  the  stage  and  were  grouped 
together  on  the  plain  like  lambs  lost  in  a  lion 
country. 

They  were  hysterical,  and  all  talked  at  once,  sob 
bing  and  wringing  their  hands.  But  when  they 
noticed  the  driver  stumbling  toward  them  with  the 
body  across  his  shoulders  their  tongues  became  sud 
denly  mute  with  a  new  fear.  Up  to  then  they  had 
thought  only  of  their  own  woes  and  bruises,  but 
here,  perhaps,  was  Death;  here  was  the  man  who 
had  risked  his  life  that  they  might  live,  and  he 
might  have  lost  as  they  gained. 

They  besieged  Bill  with  tearful  questions  and 
gave  him  no  chance  to  reply.  He  staggered  past 
them  and  placed  his  burden  in  the  scant  shadow  of 
the  coach,  while  they  cried  aloud  at  sight  of  the 
blood-stained  face,  frozen  in  their  tracks  with  fear 
and  horror.  Bill,  ignoring  them,  hastily  climbed 
with  a  wonderful  celerity  for  him,  to  the  high  seat 
and  dropped  to  the  ground  with  a  canteen  which  he 
had  torn  from  its  fastenings.  Pouring  its  contents 
over  the  upturned  face  he  half  emptied  a  pocket 

90 


The  Orphan   Obeys  an  Impulse 

flask  of  whisky  into  The  Orphan's  mouth  and  then 
fell  to  chafing  and  rubbing  with  his  calloused,  dust- 
covered  hands,  well  knowing  the  nature  of  the 
wound  and  that  it  had  only  stunned. 

Soon  the  eyelids  quivered,  fluttered  and  then  flew 
back  and  the  cruel  eyes  stared  unblinkingly  into 
those  of  the  man  above  him,  who  swore  in  sudden 
joy.  Then,  weak  as  he  was  and  only  by  the  aid 
of  an  indomitable  will,  the  wounded  man  bounded 
to  his  feet  and  stood  swaying  slightly  as  one  hand 
reached  out  to  the  stage  for  support,  the  other  in 
stinctively  leaping  to  his  Colt.  He  swayed  still 
more  as  he  slowly  turned  his  head  and  searched  the 
plain  for  foes,  the  Colt  half  drawn  from  its 
holster. 

As  soon  as  he  had  gained  his  feet  and  while  he 
was  looking  about  him  in  a  dazed  way  the  women 
began  to  talk  again,  excitedly,  hysterically.  They 
gathered  around  this  unshaven,  blood-stained  man 
and  tried  to  thank  him  for  their  lives,  their  voices 
broken  with  sobs.  He  listened,  vaguely  conscious 
of  what  they  were  trying  to  say,  until  his  brain 
cleared  and  made  him  capable  of  thought.  Then 
he  ceased  to  sway  and  spread  his  feet  far  apart  to 
stand  erect.  His  hand  went  to  his  head  for  the 

91 


The   Orphan 


sombrero  which  was  not  there,  and  he  smiled  as 
he  recalled  how  he  had  lost  it. 

"  Oh,  how  can  we  ever  thank  you !  "  cried  the 
sheriff's  eldest  sister,  choking  back  a  nervous  sob. 
"  How  can  we  ever  thank  you  for  what  you  have 
done !  You  saved  our  lives !  "  she  cried,  shudder 
ing  at  the  danger  now  past.  "  You  saved  our 
lives !  You  saved  our  lives !  "  she  repeated  ex 
citedly,  clasping  and  unclasping  her  hands  in  her 
agitation. 

"  How  can  we  ever  thank  you,  how  can  we !  " 
cried  the  girl  who  had  fainted  when  the  chase  had 
begun.  "  It  was  splendid,  splendid !  "  she  cried, 
swaying  in  her  weakness.  She  was  so  white  and 
bruised  and  frail  that  The  Orphan  felt  pity  for 
her  and  started  to  say  something,  but  had  no  chance. 
The  three  women  monopolized  the  conversation 
even  to  the  exclusion  of  Bill,  who  suddenly  felt 
that  his  talking  ability  was  only  commonplace 
after  all. 

Blood  trickled  slowly  down  the  outlaw's  face  as 
he  smiled  at  them  and  tried  to  calm  them,  and  the 
younger  sister,  suddenly  realizing  the  meaning  of 
what  she  had  vaguely  seen,  turned  to  Bill  with  an 
imperative  gesture. 

92 


The  Orphan   Obeys  an  Impulse 

"  Bring  me  some  water,  driver,  immediately," 
she  commanded  impatiently,  and  Bill  hurried 
around  to  the  rear  axle  from  which  swung  a  small 
keg  of  three  gallons'  capacity.  Quickly  unsnapping 
the  chain  from  it  he  returned  and  pried  out  the 
wooden  plug,  slowly  turning  the  keg  until  water 
began  to  flow  through  the  hole  and  trickle  down  to 
the  sand.  Miss  Shields  took  a  small  handkerchief 
from  her  waist  and  unfolded  it,  to  be  stopped  by 
Bill. 

"  Don't  spoil  that,  miss!  "  he  hastily  exclaimed. 
"  Take  one  of  mine.  They  ain't  worth  much,  and 
besides,  they're  a  whole  lot  bigger." 

"  Thank  you,  but  this  is  better,"  she  replied, 
smiling  as  she  regarded  the  dusty  neck-kerchief 
which  he  eagerly  held  out  to  her.  She  wet  the  bit 
of  clean  linen  and  Bill  followed  her  as  she  stepped 
to  the  side  of  the  outlaw,  holding  the  keg  for  her 
and  thinking  that  the  sheriff  was  not  the  only  thor 
oughbred  to  bear  the  name  of  Shields.  He  turned 
the  keg  for  her  as  she  needed  water,  and  she  bathed 
the  wound  carefully,  pushing  back  the  long  hair 
which  persisted  in  getting  in  her  way,  all  the  time 
vehemently  declining  the  eager  offers  of  assistance 
from  her  companions.  The  Orphan  had  involun- 

93 


The   Orphan 


tarily  raised  his  hand  to  stop  her,  feeling  foolish 
at  so  much  attention  given  to  so  trivial  a  wound 
and  not  at  all  accustomed  to  such  things,  especially 
from  women  with  wonderful  deep,  black  eyes. 

"  Please  do  not  bother  me,"  she  commanded, 
pushing  his  hand  aside.  "  You  can  at  least  let  me 
do  this  little  thing,  when  you  have  done  so  much,  or 
I  shall  think  you  selfish." 

He  stood  as  a  bad  boy  stands  when  unexpectedly 
rewarded  for  some  good  deed,  uncomfortable  be 
cause  of  the  ridiculous  seriousness  given  to  his  gash, 
and  ashamed  because  he  was  glad  of  the  attention. 
He  tried  not  to  look  at  her,  but  somehow  his  eyes 
would  not  stray  from  her  face,  her  heavy  mass  of 
black  hair  and  her  wonderful  eyes. 

"  You  make  me  think  that  I'm  really  hurt,"  he 
feebly  expostulated  as  he  capitulated  to  her  deft 
hands.  "  Now,  if  it  was  a  real  wound,  why  it 
might  be  all  right.  But,  pshaw,  all  this  fuss  and 
feathers  about  a  scratch !  " 

"  Indeed !  "  she  cried,  dropping  the  stained  hand 
kerchief  to  the  ground  as  she  took  another  from  her 
dress,  plastering  his  hair  back  with  her  free  hand. 
"  I  suppose  you  would  rather  have  what  you  call  a 
real  wound !  You  should  be  thankful  that  it  is  no 

94 


The  Orphan   Obeys  an  Impulse 

worse !  Why,  just  the  tiniest  bit  more,  and  you 
would  have — "  she  shuddered  as  she  thought  of  it 
and  turned  quickly  away  and  tore  a  strip  of  linen 
from  her  skirt.  Straightening  up  and  facing  him 
again  she  ripped  off  the  trimming  and  carefully 
plucked  the  loose  threads  from  it.  Folding  it  into 
a  neat  bandage  she  placed  the  handkerchief  over 
the  wound  after  pushing  back  the  rebellious  hair 
and  bound  it  into  place  with  the  strip,  deftly  patting 
it  here  and  pushing  it  there  until  it  suited  her. 
Then,  drawing  it  tight,  she  unfastened  the  gold 
breast-pin  which  she  wore  at  her  throat  and  pinned 
the  bandage  into  place,  stepping  back  to  regard  her 
work  with  satisfaction. 

"There!"  she  cried  laughing  delightedly. 
"  You  look  real  well  in  a  bandage !  But  I  am 
sorry  there  is  need  for  one,"  she  said,  sobering  inT 
stantly.  "  But,  then,  it  could  have  been  much 
worse,  very  much  worse,  couldn't  it?"  she  asked, 
smiling  brightly. 

Before  The  Orphan  could  reply,  Bill  saw  a  break 
in  the  conversation,  or  thought  he  did,  and  has 
tened  to  say  something,  for  he  felt  unnatural. 

"  I  got  yore  smokin',  Orphant!  "  he  cried,  clam 
bering  up  to  his  seat.  "  Leastawise,  I  had  before 

95 


The  Orphan 


them  war-whoops — yep!  Here  she  is,  right  side 
up  and  fine  and  dandy !  " 

Could  he  have  seen  the  look  which  the  outlaw 
flashed  at  him  he  would  have  quailed  with  sudden 
fear.  Three  gasps  arose  in  chorus,  and  the  women 
drew  back  from  the  outlaw,  fearful  and  shocked 
and  severe.  But  with  the  sheriff's  younger  sister 
it  was  only  momentarily,  for  she  quickly  recovered 
herself  and  the  look  of  fear  left  her  eyes.  So  this, 
then,  was  the  dreaded  Orphan,  the  outlaw  of  whom 
her  brother  had  written !  This  young,  sinewy, 
good-looking  man,  who  had  swayed  so  unsteadily 
on  his  feet,  was  the  man  the  stories  of  whose  out 
rages  had  filled  the  pages  of  Eastern  newspapers 
and  magazines !  Could  he  possibly  be  guilty  of  the 
murders  ascribed  to  him?  Was  he  capable  of  the 
inhumanity  which  had  made  his  name  a  synonym 
of  terror?  As  she  wondered,  torn  by  conflicting 
thoughts,  he  looked  at  her  unflinchingly,  and  his 
thin  lips  wore  a  peculiar  smile,  cynical  and  yet 
humorous. 

Bill  leaped  to  the  ground  with  the  smoking  to 
bacco  and,  blissfully  unconscious  of  what  he  had 
done,  continued  unruffled. 

"  That  was  d n  fine — begging  the  ladies' 

96 


The   Orphan   Obeys  an  Impulse 

pardon,"  he  cried.  "  Yes  sir,  it  was  plumb  sump- 
tious,  it  shore  was !  And  when  I  tell  the  sheriff  how 
you  saved  his  sisters,  he'll  be  some  tickled!  You 
just  bet  he  will !  And  I'll  tell  it  right,  too !  Just 
leave  the  telling  of  it  to  me.  Lord,  when  I  looked 
back  to  see  how  far  them  war-whoops  were  from 
my  back  hair,  and  saw  you  tearing  along  like  you 
was  a  shore  enough  express  train,  I  just  had  to  yell, 
I  was  so  tickled.  It  was  just  like  I  held  a  pair  of 
deuces  in  a  big  jack-pot  and  drew  two  more!  My, 
but  didn't  I  feel  good !  And,  say — whenever  you 
run  out  of  smoking  again,  you  just  flag  Bill  How- 
land's  chariot:  you  can  have  all  he's  got.  That's 
straight,  you  bet!  Bill  Rowland  don't  forget  a 
turn  like  that,  never." 

The  enthusiasm  he  looked  for  did  not  materialize 
and  he  glanced  from  one  to  another  as  he  realized 
that  something  was  up. 

"  Come,  dears,  let  us  go,"  said  Mary  Shields, 
lifting  her  skirts  and  abruptly  turning  her  back  on 
the  outlaw.  "  We  evidently  have  far  to  go,  and  we 
have  wasted  so  much  time.  Come,  Grace,"  she 
said  to  her  friend,  stepping  toward  the  coach. 

Bill  stared  and  wondered  how  much  time  had 
been  wasted,  since  never  before  had  he  reached  that 

97 


The  Orphan 


point  in  so  short  a  time.  He  had  made  two  miles 
to  every  one  at  his  regular  speed. 

"  Come,  Helen!  "  came  the  command  from  the 
elder,  and  with  a  trace  of  surprise  and  impatience. 

"  Sister !  Why,  Mary,  how  can  you  be  so 
mean !  "  retorted  the  girl  with  the  black  eyes,  angry 
and  indignant  at  the  unkindness  of  the  cut,  her  face 
flushing  at  its  injustice.  Her  spirit  was  up  in  arms 
immediately  and  she  deliberately  walked  to  The 
Orphan  and  impulsively  held  out  her  hand,  her 
sister's  words  deciding  the  doubts  in  her  mind  in 
the  outlaw's  favor. 

"  Forgive  her!  "  she  cried.  "  She  doesn't  mean 
to  be  rude !  She  is  so  very  nervous,  and  this  after 
noon  has  been  too  much  for  her.  It  was  a  man's 
act,  a  brave  man's  act !  And  one  which  I  will 
always  cherish,  for  I  will  never  forget  this  day, 
never,  never!  "  she  reiterated  earnestly.  "  I  don't 
care  what  they  say  about  you,  not  a  bit!  I  don't 
believe  it,  for  you  could  not  have  done  what  you 
have  if  you  are  as  they  paint  you.  I  will  not  wait 
for  our  driver  to  tell  my  brother  about  your  splendid 
act — he,  at  least,  shall  know  you  as  you  are,  and 
some  day  he  will  return  it,  too." 

Then  she  looked  from  him  to  her  hand :  "  Will 


The   Orphan   Obeys  an  Impulse 

you  not  shake  hands  with  me  ?  Show  me  that  you 
are  not  angry.  Are  you  fair  to  me  to  class  me  as 
an  enemy,  just  because  my  brother  is  the  sheriff?  " 

He  looked  at  her  in  wonderment  and  his  face 
softened  as  he  took  the  hand. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said  simply.  "  You  are  kind, 
and  fair.  I  do  not  think  of  you  as  an  enemy." 

"Helen!  Are  you  coming?"  came  from  the 
coach. 

He  smiled  at  the  words  and  then  laughed  bit 
terly,  recklessly,  his  shoulders  unconsciously  squar 
ing.  There  was  no  malice  in  his  face,  only  a  quiz 
zical,  baffling  cynicism. 

"  Oh,  it's  a  shame !  "  she  cried,  her  eyes  growing 
moist.  She  made  a  gesture  of  helplessness  and 
looked  him  full  in  the  eyes.  "  Whatever  you  have 
done  in  the  past,  you  will  give  them  no  cause  to 
say  such  things  in  the  future,  will  you?  You  will 
leave  it  all  behind  you  and  get  work,  and  not  be 
an  outlaw  any  more,  won't  you?  You  will  prove 
my  faith  in  you,  for  I  have  faith  in  you,  won't  you? 
It  will  all  be  forgotten,"  she  added,  as  if  her  words 
made  it  so.  Then  she  leaned  forward  to  readjust 
the  bandage.  "  There,  now  it's  all  right — you 
must  not  touch  it  again  like  that." 

99 


Th e   Orphan 


"  You  are  alone  in  your  faith,"  he  replied  bit 
terly,  not  daring  to  look  at  her. 

"  Oh,  I  reckon  not,"  muttered  Bill,  scowling  at 
the  stage  as  if  he  would  like  to  unhitch  and  leave 
it  there.  Then  seeing  The  Orphan  glance  at  the 
horse  which  was  grazing  contentedly,  he  went  out 

to  capture  the  animal.  "  D d  old  hen,  that's 

what  she  is!  "  he  muttered  fiercely.  "  I  don't  care 
if  she  is  the  sheriff's  sister,  that's  just  what  she  is! 
Just  a  regular  ingrowing  disposition !  " 

"  You  are  kind,  as  kind  as  you  are  beautiful," 
The  Orphan  responded  simply.  "  But  you  don't 
know." 

She  flushed  at  his  words  and  then  decided  that 
he  spoke  in  simple  sincerity. 

"  I  know  that  you  are  going  to  do  differently," 
she  replied  as  she  extended  her  hand  again. 
"  Good-by." 

He  bowed  his  head  as  he  took  it  and  flushed: 
"  Good-by." 

She  slowly  turned  and  walked  toward  the  coach, 
where  she  was  received  by  a  chilling  silence. 

Bill  brought  the  horse  to  where  The  Orphan 
stood  lost  in  thought,  unbuckled  his  cartridge  belt 
and  wrapped  it  around  the  pommel  of  the  saddle, 

100 


The  Orphan   Obeys  an  Impulse 

the  heavy  Colt  still  in  the  holster.  Then  he  clam 
bered  up  for  his  rifle  and  tied  it  to  the  saddle  skirt 
by  the  thongs  of  leather  which  dangled  therefrom. 
Looking  about  him  he  espied  the  keg  on  the  sand 
and,  driving  home  the  plug,  slung  it  behind  the 
cantle  of  the  saddle  where  he  fastend  it  by  the  straps 
which  held  the  outlaw's  "  slicker."  Jamming  the 
package  of  tobacco  into  the  pocket  of  the  garment 
he  stepped  back  and  grinned  sheepishly  at  his  gen 
erous  gifts.  He  turned  abruptly  and  strode  to  the 
outlaw  and  shoved  out  his  hand. 

"  There,  pardner,  shake !  "  he  cried  heartily. 
"  Yore  the  best  man  in  the  whole  d d  cow  coun 
try,  and  I'll  tell  'em  so,  too,  by  God  1  " 

The  outlaw  came  out  of  his  reverie  and  looked 
him  searchingly  in  the  face  as  he  gripped  the 
outstretched  hand  with  a  grip  which  made  the 
driver  wince. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Bill,"  he  replied.  "  You'll 
get  yourself  disliked  if  you  enthuse  about  me." 
Then  he  noticed  the  additions  to  his  equipment  and 
frowned :  "  You  better  take  those  things,  I  can't. 
The  spirit  is  enough." 

"  Oh,  you  borrow  them  'til  you  see  me  again," 
replied  Bill.  "  You  may  need  'em,"  he  added  as 

101 


The   Orphan 


he  wheeled  and  walked  to  the  coach.  He  climbed 
to  his  seat  and  wrapped  the  lines  about  his  hands, 
cracking  the  whip  as  soon  as  he  could,  and  the 
coach  lurched  on  its  way  to  Ford's  Station,  the 
driver  grunting  about  fool  old  maids  who  didn't 
know  enough  to  be  glad  they  were  alive. 

The  Orphan  hesitated  about  the  gifts  and  then 
decided  to  take  them  for  the  time.  He  mounted 
and  rode  past  the  coach  door,  keeping  near  to  the 
flank  of  the  last  horse,  where  he  listened  to  Bill's 
endless  talk. 

"  How  is  it  that  you've  got  a  Cross  Bar-8 
cayuse?  "  Bill  asked  at  length,  too  idiotically  happy 
to  realize  the  significance  of  his  question. 

The  Orphan's  hand  leaped  suddenly  and  then 
stopped  and  dropped  to  the  pommel,  and  he  looked 
up  at  the  driver. 

"  Oh,  one  of  their  punchers  and  I  sort  of 
swapped,"  he  laughingly  replied,  thinking  of  the 
man  under  the  debris.  "  Say,  if  I  don't  get  as  far 
as  the  canon  with  you,  just  climb  up  above  on  the 
left  hand  side  near  the  entrance  and  release  a  fool 
puncher  that  is  covered  up  under  a  pile  of  rubbish, 
will  you?  I  came  near  forgetting  him,  and  I  don't 
want  him  to  die  in  that  way." 

102 


The   Orphan   Obeys  an  Impulse 

As  he  spoke  he  saw  a  group  of  horsemen  swing 
over  a  rise  and  he  knew  them  instinctively. 

"  There's  the  gang  now — tell  them.  I'm  off 
for  a  ride,"  he  said,  dropping  back  to  the  coach 
door,  where  he  raised  his  hand  to  his  head  and 
bowed. 


103 


CHAPTER    VII 

THE   OUTFIT   HUNTS    FOR   STRAYS 

A  the  group  of  punchers  and  the  stage  neared 
each  other  Bill  saw  two  horsemen  ride  out 
into  view  beside  a  chaparral  half  a  mile  to 
the  northwest,  and  he  recognized  Shields  and  Char 
ley,  who  were  loping  forward  as  if  to  overtake  the 
cowboys,  their  approach  noiseless  because  of  the 
deep  sand.  As  the  cowboys  came  nearer  Bill  recog 
nized  them  as  being  the  five  worse  men  of  the 
Cross  Bar-8  outfit,  and  his  loyalty  to  his  new  friend 
was  no  stronger  than  his  dislike  for  the  newcomers. 
They  swept  up  at  a  canter  and  stopped  abruptly 
near  the  front  wheel. 

"  Who  was  that?  "  asked  Larry  Thompson  im 
patiently,  with  his  gloved  hand  indicating  the  direc 
tion  taken  by  The  Orphan. 

"  Friend  of  mine,"  replied  Bill,  who  was  diplo 
matically  pleasant.  "  Say,"  he  began,  enthusing 
for  effect,  "  you  should  have  turned  up  sooner — 

104 


The  Outfit  Hunts  for  Strays 


you  missed  a  regular  circus!  We  was  chased  by 
five  Apaches,  and  my  friend  cleaned  'em  up  right, 
he  shore  did!  You  should  a  seen  it.  I  wouldn't 
a  missed  it  for " 

"Cheese  it!"  relentlessly  continued  Larry,  in 
terrupting  the  threatened  verbal  deluge.  "  Don't 
be  all  day  about  it,  Windy,"  he  cried;  "who 
is  he?" 

"  Why,  a  friend  of  mine,  Tom  Davis,"  lied  Bill. 
"  He  just  wiped  out  a  bunch  of  Apaches,  like  I 
was  telling  you.  They  was  a  chasing  me  some 
plentiful  and  things  was  getting  real  interesting 
when  he  chipped  in  and  took  a  hand  from  behind. 
And  he  certainly  cleaned  'em  up  brown,  he  shore 
did!  Say,  I'll  bet  you,  even  money,  that  he  can 
lick  the  sheriff,  or  even  The  Orphant !  He's  a  holy 
terror  on  wheels,  that's  what  he  is!  Talk  about 
lightning  on  the  shoot — and  he  can  hit  twice  in 
the  same  place,  too,  if  he  wants  to,  though  there 
ain't  no  use  of  it  when  he  gets  there  once.  The 
way  he  can  heave  lead  is  enough  to  make " 

"  Choke  it,  Bill,  choke  it!  "  testily  ordered  Cur- 
ley  Smith,  whose  reputation  was  unsavory.  "  Tell 
us  why  in  h — 1  he  hit  th'  trail  so  all-fired  hard.  Is 
yore  friend  some  bashful?  "  he  inquired  ironically. 

105 


The  Orphan 


'  Well,"  replied  Bill,  grinning  exasperatingly, 
"  it  all  depends  on  how  you  looks  at  it.  Women 
say  he  is,  men  swear  he  ain't;  you  can  take  your 
choice.  But  they  do  say  he  ain't  no  ladies7  man," 
he  jabbed  maliciously,  well  knowing  that  Curley 
prided  himself  on  being  a  "  lady-killer." 

uTh'  h— 1  he  ain't!"  retorted  Curley,  with 
a  show  of  anger,  preparing  to  argue,  which  would 
take  time;  and  Bill  was  trying  to  give  the  outlaw 
a  good  start  of  them.  "  Th'  h— 1  he  ain't!  "  he 
repeated,  leaning  aggressively  forward.  "  Yu 
keep  yore  opinions  close  to  home,  yu  big-mouthed 
coyote !  " 

'  Well,  you  asked  me,  didn't  you?  "  replied  Bill. 
"  And  I  told  you,  didn't  I?  He's  a  good  man  all 
around,  and  say,  you  should  oughter  hear  him 
sing !  He's  a  singer  from  Singersville,  he  is.  Got 
the  finest  voice  this  side  of  Chicago,  that's  what." 

4  That's  real  interesting,  and  just  what  we  was 
askin'  yu  about,"  replied  Larry  with  withering 
sarcasm.  "  An'  bein'  so,  Windy,  we'll  shore  give 
him  all  the  music  he  wants  to  sing  to  before  dark 
if  we  gets  him.  Yore  lying  ability  is  real  high- 
falutin'.  Now,  suppose  yu  tell  th'  truth  before  we 
drag  it  outen  yu — who  is  he?  " 

1 06 


The   Outfit  Hunts  for  Strays 


'  You  ought  to  know  it  by  this  time.  Didn't  I 
say  his  name  is  Tom  Davis?  "  he  replied,  crossing 
his  legs,  his  face  wearing  a  bored  look.  "  How 
many  names  do  you  think  he's  got,  anyhow  ?  Ain't 
one  enough  ?  " 

"  Look  ahere !  "  cried  Curley,  pushing  forward. 

"  Was  that  th'  d d  Orphant?  Come  on,  now, 

talk  straight!  " 

"  Orphant!  "  ejaculated  Bill  in  surprise.  "  Did 
you  say  Orphant  ?  Orphant  nothing !  "  he  re 
sponded.  "  What  in  h — 1  do  you  think  I'd  be 
lying  about  him  for?  Do  I  look  easy?  He  ain't 
no  friend  of  mine !  Besides,  I  wouldn't  know  him 
if  I  saw  him,  never  having  seen  that  frisky  gent. 
Holy  gee !  is  the  Orphant  loose  in  this  country,  out 
here  along  my  route !  "  he  cried,  simulating  alarm. 

"  Well,  we'll  take  a  chance  anyhow,"  interposed 
Jack  Kelly.  "  I  can  tell  when  a  fool  lies.  If  it  is 
yore  friend  Tom  Davis  we  won't  hurt  him  none." 

"Honest,  you  won't  hurt  him?"  asked  Bill, 
grinning  broadly.  "  No,  I  reckon  you  won't,  all 
right,"  he  added,  for  the  sheriff  was  close  at  hand 
now  and  was  coming  up  at  a  walk,  and  Bill  had  an 
abiding  faith  in  that  official.  He  could  be  a  trifle 
reckless  how  he  talked  now.  He  laughed  sarcas- 

107 


The  Orphan 


tically  and  hooked  his  thumbs  in  the  armholes  of 
his  vest.  "  Nope,  I  reckon  you  won't  hurt  him, 
not  a  little  bit.  Not  if  he  knows  you're  going  to 
try  it  on  him.  And  if  it  should  be  Mister  Orphant, 
well,  I  hear  that  he's  dead  sore  on  being  hunted — 

don't  like  it  for  a  d n.  I  also  hear  he  drinks 

blood  instead  of  water  and  whips  five  men  before 
breakfast  every  morning  to  get  up  an  appetite. 
Oh,  no,  and  you  won't  hurt  him  neither,  will  you?  " 

"  Yore  real  pert,  now  ain't  yu?  "  shouted  Curley 
angrily.  "  Yore  a  whole  lot  sassy  an'  smart,  ain't 
yu?  But  if  we  find  that  he  is  that  Orphant,  we'll 
pay  yu  a  visit  so  yu  can  explain  just  why  yore  so 

d d  friendly  with  him.  He  seems  to  have  a 

whole  lot  of  friends  about  this  country,  he  does! 
Even  the  sheriff  won't  hurt  him.  Even  th'  brave 
sheriff  loses  his  trail.  Must  be  somethin'  in  it  for 
somebody,  eh?  " 

"  You'd  better  tell  that  to  somebody  else,  the 
sheriff,  for  instance.  He'd  like  to  think  it  over," 
responded  Bill  easily.  "  It's  a  good  chance  to  see 
a  little  branding,  a  la  Colt,  as  the  French  say. 
Tell  it  to  him,  why  don't  you  ?  " 

"  I'm  a-tellin'  it  to  yu,  now,  an'  I'll  tell  it  to 
Shields  when  I  sees  him,  yu  overgrown  baby,  yu !  " 

108 


The  Outfit  Hunts  for  Strays 


shouted  Curley,  his  hand  dropping  to  his  Colt. 
"  Everybody  knows  it !  Everybody  is  a-talkin' 
about  it !  An'  we'll  have  a  new  sheriff,  too,  before 
long !  An'  as  for  yu,  if  we  wasn't  in  such  a  hurry, 
we'd  give  yu  a  lesson  yu'd  never  forget!  That 

d d  Orphant  has  got  a  pull,  but  we're  goin'  to 

give  him  a  push,  an'  plumb  into  hell!  Either  a 
pull  or  our  brave  sheriff  is  some  ascairt  of  him! 
He's  a  fine  sheriff,  he  is,  th'  big  baby!  " 

"  Pleasant  afternoon,  Curley,"  came  from  be 
hind  the  group,  accompanied  by  a  soft  laugh.  The 
voice  was  very  pleasant  and  low.  Curley  stiffened 
and  turned  in  his  saddle  like  a  flash.  The  sheriff 
was  smiling,  but  there  was  a  glint  in  his  fighting 
eyes  that  gave  grave  warning.  The  sheriff  smiled, 
but  some  men  smile  when  most  dangerous,  and  as 
an  assurance  of  mastery  and  coolness. 

"Looking  for  strays,  or  is  it  mavericks?"  he 
casually  asked,  a  question  which  left  no  doubt  as 
to  what  the  smile  indicated,  for  it  was  a  challenge. 
Maverick  hunting  was  at  that  time  akin  to  rustling, 
and  it  was  occurring  on  the  range  despite  the 
sheriff's  best  efforts  to  stop  it. 

Curley  flushed  and  mumbled  something  about  a 
missing  herd.  He  had  suddenly  remembered  the 

109 


The   Orphan 


scene  at  the  corral,  and  it  had  a  most  subduing 
effect  on  him.  The  sheriff  regarded  him  closely 
and  then  noted  the  bullet  holes  in  the  coach.  The 
door  of  the  vehicle  was  closed,  the  curtains  down, 
and  no  sound  came  from  within  it.  The  baggage 
flap  had  settled  askew  over  the  tell-tale  trunks  and 
hid  them  from  sight  on  that  side. 

"  Oh,  it's  a  missing  herd  this  time,  is  it?"  he 
inquired  coolly.  "  Well,  I  reckon  you  won't  find 
it  out  here.  They  don't  wander  over  this  layout 
while  the  Limping  Water  is  running." 

"  Well,  we'll  take  a  look  down  south  aways;  it 
won't  do  no  harm  now  that  we've  got  this  far," 
replied  Larry.  "  Come  on,  boys,"  he  cried. 
'*  We've  wasted  too  much  time  with  th'  engineer." 

"Wait!"  commanded  the  sheriff  shortly. 
'  Your  foreman  made  me  certain  promises,  and  I 
reckon  that  you  are  out  against  orders.  I  wouldn't 
be  surprised  if  Sneed  wants  you  right  now." 

Larry  laughed  uneasily.  "  Oh,  I  reckon  he  ain't 
losin'  no  sleep  about  us.  We  won't  hurt  nobody  " 
— whereat  Bill  grinned.  "  Come  on,  fellows." 

"  Well,  I  hope  you  get  what  you're  looking 
for,"  replied  the  sheriff,  whereat  Bill  snickered  out 
right  and  winked  at  Charley,  who  sat  alert  and 

1 10 


The   Outfit  Hunts  for  Strays 


scowling  behind  the  sheriff,  rather  hoping  for  a 
fight. 

Larry  flashed  the  driver  a  malicious  look  and, 
wheeling,  cantered  south,  followed  by  his  compan 
ions.  They  rode  straight  for  the  point  at  which 
The  Orphan  had  disappeared,  Bill  waving  his  arms 
and  crying :  "  Sic  'em."  The  chase  was  on  in 
earnest. 

The  stage  door  suddenly  flew  open  with  a  bang 
and  interrupted  the  explanations  which  Bill  was 
about  to  offer,  and  in  a  flash  the  sheriff  was  almost 
smothered  by  the  attentions  showered  on  him. 
Laughing  and  struggling  and  delighted  by  the 
surprise  the  peace  officer  could  not  get  a  word 
edgewise  in  the  rapid-fire  exclamations  and  ques 
tions  which  were  hurled  at  him  from  all  sides. 

But  finally  he  could  be  heard  as  he  extricated 
himself  from  the  embraces  of  his  sisters. 

"  Well,  well !  "  he  cried,  smiles  wreathing  his 
face  as  he  stepped  back  to  get  a  good  look  at  them. 
"  You're  a  sight  to  make  a  sick  man  well !  My, 
Helen,  but  how  you've  grown !  It's  been  five 
years  since  I  saw  you — and  you  were  only  a  school 
girl  in  short  dresses !  And  Mary  hasn't  grown  a 
bit  older,  not  a  bit,"  addressing  the  elder  of  the 

in 


The  Orphan 


two.  Then  he  turned  to  the  friend.  "  You  must 
pardon  me,  Miss  Ritchie,"  he  said  as  he  shook 
hands  with  her.  "  But  I've  been  looking  forward 
to  this  meeting  for  a  long  time.  And  I'm  really 
surprised,  too,  because  I  didn't  expect  you  all  until 
the  next  stage  trip.  I  had  intended  meeting  you 
at  the  train  and  seeing  you  safely  to  Ford's  Station, 
because  the  Apaches  are  out.  I  couldn't  get  word 
to  you  in  time  for  you  to  postpone  your  visit,  so  I 
was  going  to  take  Charley  and  several  more  of  the 
boys  and  escort  you  home." 

Then  he  looked  about  for  Charley,  and  found 
that  person  engaged  in  conversation  with  Bill  as 
the  two  examined  the  bullet-marked  stage. 

"  Come  here,  Charley!  "  he  cried,  beckoning  his 
friend  to  his  side.  "  Ladies,  this  is  Charley  Win 
ter,  and  he  is  a  real  good  boy  for  a  puncher.  Char 
ley,  Miss  Ritchie,  my  sisters  Mary  and  Helen.  I 
reckon  you  ladies  are  purty  well  acquainted  with 
Bill  Rowland  by  this  time,  but  in  case  you  ain't, 
I'll  just  say  that  he  is  the  boss  driver  of  the  South 
west,  noted  locally  for  his  oppressive  taciturnity. 
I  reckon  you  two  boys  don't  need  any  introduc 
ing,"  he  laughed. 

Then,  while  the  conversation  throbbed  at  fever 

I  12 


The  Outfit  Hunts  for  Strays 


heat,  Bill  suddenly  remembered  and  wheeled 
toward  the  sheriff. 

"  The  Orphant !  "  he  yelled  in  alarm,  hoping  to 
gain  attention  that  way. 

The  sheriff  and  Charley  wheeled,  guns  in  hand, 
and  leaped  clear  of  the  women,  their  quick  eyes 
glancing  from  point  to  point  in  search  of  the 
danger. 

"Where?"  cried  the  sheriff  over  his  shoulder 
at  Bill. 

"  Down  south,  ahead  of  them  fool  punchers," 
Bill  exclaimed.  "  He's  only  got  a  little  start  on 
'em.  And  they  know  he's  there,  too.  That's  why 
they're  looking  for  cows  on  a  place  cows  never  go." 

Then  he  related  in  detail  the  occurrences  of  the 
past  few  hours,  to  the  sheriff's  great  astonishment, 
and  also  to  his  delight  at  the  way  it  had  turned  out. 
Shields  thought  of  his  own  personal  experiences 
with  the  outlaw,  and  this  put  him  deeper  in  debt. 
His  opinion  as  to  there  being  much  good  in  his 
enemy's  makeup  was  strengthened,  and  he  smiled 
at  the  fighting  ability  and  fairness  of  the  man  who 
had  declared  a  truce  with  him  by  the  big  bowlder 
on  the  Apache  Trail. 

"  Oh,  I  hope  they  don't  catch  him !  "  Helen 


The  Orphan 


cried  anxiously.  "  Can't  you  do  something, 
James?"  she  implored.  "He  saved  us,  and  he 
is  wounded,  too!  Can't  you  stop  them?  " 

The  sheriff  looked  to  the  south  in  the  direction 
taken  by  the  cowpunchers,  and  a  hard  light  grew 
in  his  eyes. 

"  No,  not  now,"  he  replied  decisively.  "  They've 
had  too  much  time  now.  And  it's  safe  to  bet  that 
they  rode  at  full  speed  just  as  soon  as  they  got  out 
of  my  sight.  They  knew  Bill  would  tell  me. 
They're  miles  away  by  this  time.  But  don't  you 
worry,  Sis — they  won't  get  him.  Five  curs  never 
lived  that  could  catch  a  timber  wolf  in  his  own 
country — and  if  they  do  catch  him,  they  will  wish 
they  hadn't.  And  I  almost  hope  they  win  the 
chase,  for  they'll  lose  their  fool  lives.  It  will  be  a 
lesson  to  the  rest  of  the  bullies  of  the  Cross  Bar-8 — 
and  small  loss  to  the  community  at  large,  eh, 
Charley?" 

"  Yore  shore  right,  Jim,"  replied  Charley,  smil 
ing  at  Miss  Ritchie.  "  Did  you  ever  hear  tell  of 
the  dog  that  retrieved  a  lighted  dynamite  car 
tridge  ?"  he  asked  her.  "No?  Well,  the  dog  left 
for  parts  unknown." 

"  That's  good,  Charley,"  Shields  responded 
114 


The  Outfit  Hunts  for  Strays 


with  a  laugh.  "  The  dog  just  wouldn't  mind,  and 
he  was  only  a  snarling,  no-account  cur  at  that, 
wasn't  he?"  Then  he  looked  at  the  coach,  and 
his  heart  softened  to  the  hunted  man.  "  I  can  see 
it  all,  now,"  he  said  slowly.  "  Those  punchers 
must  have  forced  him  out  of  the  Backbone,  and  he 
was  getting  away  when  he  saw  the  plight  you  were 
in.  By  God !  "  he  cried  in  appreciation  of  the  act. 
"  It  wasn't  no  one  man's  work,  five  Apaches !  One 
man  stopping  five  of  those  devils — it  was  no  work 
for  a  murderer,  not  much !  It  was  clean-cut  nerve, 
and  if  I  ever  see  him  I'll  tell  him  so,  too !  I'll  let 
him  know  that  he's  got  some  friends  in  this  coun 
try.  They  can  say  what  they  please,  but  there's 
more  manhood  in  him  to  the  square  inch  than 
there  is  in  all  the  people  who  cry  him  down;  and 
who  are  in  a  great  way  responsible  for  his  being 
an  outlaw.  I'm  ready  to  swear  that  he  never  wan 
tonly  shot  a  man  down;  no,  sir,  he  didn't.  And  I 
reckon  he  never  had  much  show,  from  what  I 
know  of  him." 

u  Helen  was  real  kind  to  him,"  remarked  the 
spinster.  u  She  bathed  his  wound  and  bandaged 
it.  Spoiled  her  very  best  skirt,  too." 

"  You're  a  good  girl,  Sis,"  Shields  said,  looking 


The  Orphan 


fondly  at  the  beautiful  girl  at  his  side.  His  arm 
went  around  her  shoulder  and  he  affectionately 
patted  her  cheek.  "  I'm  proud  of  you,  and  we'll 
have  to  see  if  we  can't  get  another  *  very  best  skirt,' 
too."  Then  he  laughed :  "  But  I'll  bet  he  blesses 
the  warrior  who  fired  that  shot — he's  not  used  to 
having  pretty  girls  fuss  about  him." 

Mary  looked  quickly  at  her  sister.  "  Why, 
Helen!  You've  lost  your  gold  pin!  Where  do 
you  suppose  it  has  gone?  I'll  look  in  the  stage 
for  it  before  we  forget  about  it.  Dear  me,  dear 
me,"  she  cried  as  she  entered  the  vehicle,  "  this  has 
indeed  been  a  terrible  day !  " 

Bill  grinned  and  turned  toward  his  team.  "  I 
reckon  she'll  find  it  some  day,"  he  said  in  a  low 
aside  as  he  passed  the  sheriff.  "  I'll  just  bet  she 
does.  It'll  be  in  at  the  finish  of  a  whole  lot  of 
things,  and  people,  too,  you  bet,"  he  added  enig 
matically. 

Shields  looked  quickly  at  the  driver,  his  face 
brightened  and  he  smiled  knowingly  at  the  words. 
"  I  reckon  it  will;  fool  punchers,  for  instance?  " 

Bill  turned  his  head  and  one  eye  closed  in  an 
emphatic  wink.  "  Keno,"  he  replied. 

Mary  bustled  out  again,  very  much  agitated.  "  I 
116 


The  Outfit  Hunts  for  Strays 


can't  find  it.  Where  do  you  suppose  you  lost  it, 
dear?  I've  looked  everywhere  in  the  stage." 

"  Probably  back  where  we  stopped  before," 
Helen  replied  quietly.  "  We  were  so  agitated  that 
we  would  never  have  noticed  it  if  it  slipped  down." 

"Well—"  began  Mary. 

"  No  use  going  back  for  it,  Miss  Shields," 
promptly  interrupted  Bill  from  his  high  seat. 
"  We  just  couldn't  find  it  in  all  that  trampled  sand, 
not  if  we  hunted  all  week  for  it  with  a  comb." 

"  You're  right,  Bill,"  gravely  responded  the 
sheriff.  "We  never  could." 

As  they  entered  the  defile  of  the  Backbone  the 
sheriff  suddenly  remembered  what  Bill  had  told 
him  and  he  stopped  and  dismounted. 

"  You  keep  right  on,  Bill,"  he  said.  "  I'm  going 
up  to  hunt  that  fool  puncher.  Lord,  but  it's  a 
joke !  This  game  is  getting  better  every  day — I'm 
getting  so  I  sort  of  like  to  have  The  Orphan 
around.  He's  shore  original,  all  right." 

"  He's  better  than  a  marked  deck  in  a  darkened 
room,"  laughed  the  driver.  "  He  shore  ought  to 
be  framed,  or  something  like  that." 

"  You  better  go  with  them,  Charley,"  the  sheriff 
said  as  his  friend  made  a  move  at  dismounting. 

117 


Th e  Orphan 


'  There  ain't  no  danger,  but  we  won't  take  no 
chances  this  time;  we've  got  a  precious  coachful." 

"All  right,"  replied  Charley  as  he  wheeled 
toward  the  disappearing  stage.  "  So  long, 
Sheriff." 

The  sheriff  looked  the  wall  over  and  then  picked 
out  a  comparatively  easy  place  and  climbed  to  the 
top.  As  he  drew  himself  over  the  edge  he  espied 
a  pair  of  boots  which  showed  from  under  a  pile 
of  debris,  and  he  laughed  heartily.  At  the  laugh 
the  feet  began  to  kick  vigorously,  so  affecting  the 
sheriff  that  he  had  to  stop  a  minute,  for  it  was  the 
most  ludicrous  sight  he  had  ever  looked  upon. 

Shields  grabbed  the  boots  and  pulled,  walking 
backward,  and  soon  an  enraged  and  trussed  cow- 
puncher  came  into  view.  Slowly  and  carefully 
unrolling  the  rope  from  the  unfortunate  man,  he 
coiled  it  methodically  and  slung  it  over  his  shoul 
der,  and  then  assisted  in  loosening  the  gag. 

The  puncher  was  too  stiff  to  rise  and  his  libera 
tor  helped  him  to  his  feet  and  slapped  and  rubbed 
and  chuckled  and  rubbed  to  start  the  blood  in  cir 
culation.  The  gag  had  so  affected  the  muscles  of 
the  puncher's  jaw  that  his  mouth  would  not  close 
without  assistance  and  effort,  and  his  words  were 

118 


The  Outfit  Hunts  for  Strays 


not  at  all  clear  for  that  reason.  His  first  word  was 
a  curse. 

"  'Ell!  "  he  cried  as  he  stamped  and  swung  his 

arms.  "'Ell!  I'm  asleep  all  o'er!  !  'Ait 

till  I  get  'im !  !  'Ait  till  I  get  'im !  " 

"  Sort  of  continuing  the  little  nap  you  was  taking 
when  he  roped  you,  eh?"  asked  Shields,  holding 
his  sides. 

"Nap  nothing!  Nap  nothing!"  yelled  the 
other  in  profane  denial.  "  I  wasn't  asleep,  I  tell 
yu !  I  was  wide  awake !  He  got  th'  drop  on  me, 
and  then  that  cussed  rope  of  his'n  was  everywhere ! 
Th'  air  was  plumb  full  of  rope  and  guns !  I  didn't 
have  no  show!  Not  a  bit  of  a  show!  Oh,  just 
wait  till  I  get  him!  Why,  I  heard  my  pardners 
talking  as  they  hunted  for  me,  and  there  I  was  not 
twenty  feet  away  from  them  all  the  time,  helpless ! 
They're  fine  lookers,  they  are!  Wait  till  I  sees 
them,  too!  I'll  tell  'em  a  few  things,  all  right!  " 

"  Well,  I  reckon  you  may  see  one  or  two  of 
them,  if  they're  lucky — and  you  can't  beat  a  fool 
for  luck,"  replied  the  sheriff.  "  They  want  to  be 
angels;  they're  on  his  trail  now." 

"  Hope  they  get  him !  "  yelled  the  puncher, 
dancing  with  rage.  "  Hope  they  burn  him  at  th' 

119 


T h e   Orphan 


stake!  Hope  they  scalp  him,  an'  hash  him,  an* 
saw  his  arms  off,  an'  cave  his  roof  in !  Hope  they 
make  him  eat  his  fingers  and  toes !  Hope " 

"  You're  some  hopeful  to-day,"  responded  the 
sheriff.  "  If  you  like  them,  you  better  hope  they 
don't  get  him.  That's  hoping  real  hope." 

"  Wait  till  I  get  him !  "  the  puncher  repeated, 
grabbing  for  his  Colt,  being  too  enraged  to  notice 
its  absence.  "  I'll  show  him  if  he  can  tie  a  man  up 
an'  leave  him  to  choke  to  death,  an'  starve  an' 
roast!  I'll  show  him  if  he  can  run  this  country 
like  he  owns  it,  shooting  and  abusing  everybody 
he  wants  to !  " 

"All  right,  Sonny,"  Shields  laughed.  "I'll 
shore  wait  till  you  gets  him,  if  I  live  long  enough. 
But  for  your  sake  I  shore  hope  you  never  finds  him. 
He  wouldn't  get  any  more  reputation  if  he  killed 
you,  and  your  friends  would  miss  you." 

"  Don't  yu  let  that  worry  yu !  "  retorted  the 
enraged  man.  "  I  can  take  care  of  myself  in  a 
mix-up,  all  right!  An'  I'm  going  to  chase  after 
my  friends  an'  take  a  hand  in  th'  game,  too,  by 
God !  He  ain't  going  to  leave  me  high  an'  dry  an' 
live  to  boast  about  it!  But  I  suppose  you  reckon 
yu'll  stop  me,  hey?  " 

1 20 


The  Outfit  Hunts  for  Strays 


Shields  raised  both  hands  high  in  the  air  in 
denial.  "  I  wouldn't  think  of  such  a  thing,  not  for 
the  world,"  he  cried,  laughter  shaking  his  big 
frame.  "  You  can  go  any  place  you  please,  only 
I'd  take  a  gun  if  I  was  going  after  him"  he  added, 
eyeing  the  empty  holster.  "  You  know,  you  might 
need  it,"  he  was  very  grave  in  his  use  of  the  sub 
junctive. 

The  puncher  slapped  his  hand  to  his  thigh  and 

then  jumped  high  into  the  air:  " !  !  " 

he  shouted.  "  Stole  my  gun !  Stole  my  gun !  " 
Then  he  paused  suddenly  and  his  face  cleared. 
"  But  I've  got  something  better'n  a  Colt  on  my 
cayuse !  "  he  cried  as  he  leaped  toward  the  edge  of 
the  canon.  "  An'  I'll  give  him  all  it  holds,  too!  " 
he  threatened  as  he  bumped  and  slid  to  the  bottom. 
The  sheriff  took  more  care  and  time  in  descending 
and  had  just  reached  the  trail  when  he  heard  a 
heart-rending  yell,  followed  by  a  sizzling  stream 
of  throbbing  profanity. 

"Where's  my  cayuse?"  yelled  the  puncher  as 
he  rounded  the  corner  of  the  canon  wall  on  a 
peculiar  lope  and  hop.  "  Where's  my  cayuse,  yu 
law-coyote?"  he  shouted,  temporarily  out  of  his 
senses  from  rage.  "  Where's  my  cayuse !  "  dancing 

121 


The   Orphan 


up  to  the  sheriff  and  shaking  both  fists  under  the 
laughter-convulsed  face. 

When  the  sheriff  could  speak,  he  leaned  against 
the  canon  wall  for  support  and  broke  the  news. 

"  Why,  Bill  Rowland  said  as  how  The  Orphan 
was  riding  a  Cross  Bar-8  cayuse — dirty  brown, 
with  a  white  stocking  on  his  near  front  foot.  It 
had  a  big  scar  on  its  neck,  too." 

"  Th'  d d  hoss  thief !  "  began  the  puncher, 

but  Shields  kept  right  on  talking. 

"  There  was  a  dandy  Cheyenne  saddle,"  he  said, 
counting  on  his  fingers,  "  a  good  gun,  a  pair  of 
hobbles  and  a  big  coil  of  rawhide  rope  on  the 
cayuse.  Was  they  yours?  " 

"  Was  they  mine !  Was  they  mine !  "  his  com 
panion  screamed.  "  My  new  saddle  gone,  my  gun 
gone  and  my  fine  rope  gone !  Oh,  h — 1 !  How'll 
I  hunt  him  now?  How'll  I  get  home?  How'll  I 
get  back  to  th'  ranch?"  Words  failed  him,  and 
he  could  only  wave  his  arms  and  yell. 

"  Well,  it  wouldn't  hardly  be  worth  while  chas 
ing  him  on  foot  without  a  gun,  that's  shore,"  the 
sheriff  said,  grave  once  more.  "  But  you  can  get 
home  all  right;  that's  easy." 

"  How  can  I  ?  "  asked  the  puncher,  eyeing  the 

122 


The  Outfit  Hunts  for  Strays 


sheriff's  horse  and  waiting  for  the  invitation  to  ride 
double  on  it. 

"  Why,  walk,"  was  the  reply.  "  It's  only  about 
twenty  miles  as  the  crow  flies — say  twenty-five  on 
the  trail." 

"Walk!  Walk!"  cried  his  companion,  sav 
agely  kicking  at  a  lizard  which  looked  out  from  a 
crevice  in  the  rock  wall.  "  I  never  walked  five 
miles  all  at  once  in  my  life !  " 

"  Well,  it'll  be  a  new  experience,  and  you  can't 
begin  any  younger,"  replied  Shields  as  he  swung 
into  his  saddle.  "  It'll  do  you  good,  too — increase 
your  appetite." 

"  I'm  so  hungry  now  I'm  half  starved,"  replied 
the  other.  "  But  I'll  pay  up  for  all  this,  you  see  if 
I  don't!  I'll  get  square  with  that  d d  out 
law  !  " 

"  You  don't  know  enough  to  be  glad  you  were 
found,"  retorted  the  sheriff.  "  And  if  he  hadn't 
told  Bill  where  to  look  for  you,  you  wouldn't  have 
been,  neither.  You  got  off  easy,  Bucknell,  and 
don't  you  forget  it,  neither.  Men  have  been  killed 
for  less  than  what  you  tried  to  do." 

The  puncher  wilted,  for  twenty-five  miles  in 
high-heeled  boots,  over  rocks  and  sand,  and  with 

I2'3 


The   Orphan 


an  empty  stomach,  was  terrible  to  contemplate,  and 
he  turned  to  the  sheriff  beseechingly. 

"  Give  me  a  lift,  Sheriff,"  he  implored.  "  Take 
me  up  behind  you — I  can't  walk  all  the  way !  " 

Shields  looked  at  the  sun,  which  was  nearing  the 
western  horizon,  and  thought  for  a  minute.  Then 
he  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Well,  I  hadn't  ought  to  help  you  a  step,  not  a 
single,  solitary  step,  and  you  know  it.  You  tried 
your  best  to  run  against  me.  You  tried  to  hold 
me  up  there  by  the  corral,  and  then  after  I  had 
warned  you  not  to  go  out  for  The  Orphan  you 
went  right  ahead.  Now  you're  asking  me  to  help 
you  out  of  your  trouble,  to  make  good  for  your 
fool  stupidity.  But  I'll  take  you  as  far  as  the  end 
of  the  canon — no,  I'll  take  you  on  to  the  ford,  and 
then  you  can  do  the  rest  on  foot.  That'll  leave 
you  ten  or  a  dozen  miles.  Get  aboard." 


124 


CHAPTER    VIII 


"  A  TIMBER  WOLF  IN  HIS  OWN  COUNTRY  " 


WHEN  The  Orphan  said  good-by  to  Bill 
he  sat  quietly  in  his  saddle  for  a  minute 
watching  the  departing  stage  and  won 
dered  how  it  was  that  he  had  the  decency  to  avoid 
a  fight  with  the  cowboys  in  the  presence  of  the 
women.  Then  Helen's  words  came  to  him  and  he 
smiled  at  the  idea  of  peace  when  he  would  have  to 
fight  the  outfit  before  sundown.  The  heat  of  the 
sun  on  his  bare  head  recalled  him  from  his  mental 
wanderings  and  he  wheeled  abruptly  and  galloped 
along  the  trail  to  where  he  remembered  that  a  tiny, 
blood-stained  handkerchief  lay  in  the  dust  and  sand. 
Soon  he  espied  it  and,  swinging  over  in  the  saddle, 
deftly  picked  it  up  and  regained  his  upright  posi 
tion,  his  head  reeling  at  the  effort.  Unfolding  it 
he  examined  the  neat  "  H  "  done  in  silk  in  one  cor 
ner  and  smiled  as  he  put  it  in  his  chaps  pocket 
where  he  kept  his  extra  ammunition. 

125 


The   Orphan 


"  Peace  and  war  in  one  pocket,"  he  muttered, 
grinning  at  his  cartridges'  new  and  unusual  com 
panion. 

Then  he  espied  a  Winchester  near  a  fallen  brave, 
and  he  procured  it  as  he  had  the  handkerchief. 
Describing  an  arc  he  picked  up  another,  discarding 
it  after  he  had  emptied  the  magazine,  for  ammuni 
tion  was  what  he  wanted.  Two  Winchesters  were 
all  right,  but  three  were  too  many.  As  he  threw 
it  from  him  he  glanced  through  a  slight  opening  in 
the  chaparral  and  saw  the  outfit  approach  the  stage. 
Then  he  galloped  to  where  his  sombrero  lay,  picked 
it  up  and  turned  to  the  south  for  the  Cimarron 
Trail.  When  thoroughly  screened  by  the  chaparral 
he  pushed  on  with  the  swinging  lope  which  his  horse 
could  maintain  for  hours,  and  which  ate  up  distance 
in  an  astonishing  manner.  He  had  lost  time  in 
going  for  his  sombrero  and  the  handkerchief,  and 
every  minute  before  nightfall  was  precious.  His 
thoughts  now  bent  to  the  problem  of  how  either  to 
elude  or  ambush  his  pursuers,  and  the  Winchesters 
bespoke  his  forethought,  for  up  to  six  hundred 
yards  they  were  not  a  pleasant  proposition  to  face. 
If  he  eluded  the  cowboys  in  the  darkness  he  was 
morally  certain  that  they  would  take  up  his  trail 

126 


"A   Timber  Wolf  in  His   Own  Country" 

at  dawn,  and  what  distance  he  had  gained  would 
be  at  the  expense  of  the  freshness  of  his  horse. 
While  he  would  average  ten  miles  an  hour  through 
the  night,  their  mounts,  freshened  by  a  night's  rest, 
might  cut  down  his  gain  before  the  nightfall  of  the 
next  day. 

One  of  the  Winchesters  worked  loose  from  its 
lashings  and  started  to  slide  toward  the  ground. 
He  quickly  grasped  it  and  made  it  secure,  smiling 
at  the  number  of  rifles  he  had  had  and  lost  during 
the  past  three  weeks. 

"  Funny  how  this  country  has  been  shedding 
Winchesters  lately,"  he  mused.  "  There  was  the 
five  I  got  by  the  big  bowlder,  which  I  lost  playing 

tag  with  that  d d  Cross  Bar-8  gang,  and  here's 

two  more,  and  I  just  left  three  what  I  didn't  want. 
Well,  they're  real  handy  for  stopping  a  rush,  and 
I  reckons  that's  what  I'm  up  against  this  time.  If 
I  can  find  a  likely  spot  for  a  scrap  before  dark  I 
may  stop  that  gang  in  bang-up  style,  d n  them." 

Half  an  hour  later  he  caught  sight  of  a  moving 
body  of  horsemen  to  the  southeast  of  him  and  his 
glasses  enabled  him  to  make  them  out. 

"  'Paches !  "  he  exclaimed,  and  then  he  smiled 
grimly  and  continued  on  his  way  toward  them,  tak- 

127 


The   Orphan 


ing  care  to  keep  himself  screened  from  their  sight 
by  rises  and  chaparrals.  His  first  thought  had 
been  of  danger,  but  now  he  laughed  at  the  cards 
fate  had  put  in  his  hand,  for  he  would  use  the 
Indians  to  great  advantage  later  on. 

He  counted  them  and  made  their  number  to  be 
twenty-two,  which  accounted  for  the  five  warriors 
who  had  pursued  the  stage  coach.  The  odds  were 
fine  and  he  laughed  joyously,  recklessly:  "  All  is 
fair  in  love  and  war,"  he  muttered  savagely. 

Before  the  Indians  had  come  upon  the  scene  he 
had  been  alone  to  face  five  angry  and  vengeful  men, 
and  whom  he  had  every  reason  to  believe  were  at 
least  fair  fighters.  Had  the  positions  been  reversed 
they  would  not  have  hesitated  to  make  use  of  any 
stratagem  to  save  themselves — and  here  were  two 
contingents,  both  of  which  would  take  his  life  at 
the  first  opportunity.  He  felt  no  distaste  at  the 
game  he  was  about  to  play;  on  the  other  hand,  it 
pleased  him  immensely  to  know  that  he  was  superior 
in  intellect  to  his  enemies.  They  both  wanted 
blood,  and  they  should  have  it.  If  they  found  too 
much,  well  and  good — that  was  their  lookout.  And 
no  less  pleasing  was  the  knowledge  that  he  had  sent 
them  north  and  that  now  he  could  make  use  of 

128 


"A   Timber  Wolf  in  His   Own  Country" 

them.  He  wondered  what  they  had  been  doing  for 
the  last  three  weeks  and  why  they  were  still  in  that 
part  of  the  country,  but  he  did  not  care,  for  they 
were  where  he  wanted  them  to  be. 

"  Twenty-two  mad  Apaches  on  the  warpath 
against  five  cow-wrastlers  1  "  he  exulted.  "More 
than  four  to  one,  and  just  aching  to  get  square  on 
somebody!  That  Cross  Bar-8  gang  will  have 

something  to  weep  about  purty  d n  soon  1    And 

I  shore  hope  they  don't  get  tired  and  quit  chas 
ing  me." 

He  stopped  and  waited  when  he  had  gained  a 
screened  position  from  where  he  could  look  back 
over  his  trail,  and  he  had  not  long  to  wait,  for  soon 
he  saw  five  cowboys  galloping  hard  in  his  direction. 
Another  look  to  the  southeast  showed  him  that  the 
war  party  was  now  riding  slowly  toward  him,  not 
knowing  of  his  presence,  and  they  would  arrive  at 
his  cover  at  about  the  same  time  the  cowboys  would 
come  up.  Neither  the  Indians  nor  the  cowboys 
knew  of  the  proximity  of  the  other,  while  The 
Orphan  could  see  them  both.  He  glanced  at  the 
thicket  to  the  west  of  him  and  saw  that  it  was  thin, 
being  a  connecting  link  between  the  two  larger 
chaparrals. 

129 


T h e   Orphan 


"  I  don't  know  how  you  are  on  the  jump, 
bronch,"  he  said  to  his  mount,  "  but  I  reckon  you 
can  get  through  that,  all  right." 

The  cowboys  disappeared  from  his  sight  behind 
the  northern  chaparral,  and  as  they  did  so  he  sunk 
his  spurs  into  his  horse  and  rode  straight  at  the 
prickly  screen  and,  going  partly  over  and  partly 
through  it,  galloped  westward  as  the  war  party  and 
the  ranch  contingent  met.  The  shots  and  yells  were 
as  music  to  his  ears,  and  he  bowed  in  mockery  and 
waved  his  hand  at  the  turmoil  as  he  made  his 
escape.  The  timber  wolf  had  won. 


130 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE  CROSS  BAR-8  LOSES  SLEEP 

SNEED  was  angry,  which  could  be  seen  by  the 
way  he  talked,  ate,  moved  and  swore.  He 
had  many  cattle  to  care  for  and  they  were 
strewn  over  six  hundred  square  miles  of  territory. 
The  work  was  hard  enough  when  he  had  his  full 
dozen  punchers,  but  now  it  forced  groans  from  the 
tired  bodies  of  his  men,  who  fell  asleep  while  remov 
ing  their  saddles  at  night,  and  who  worked  in  a 
way  almost  mechanical.  The  extra  work  was  not 
conducive  to  sweetness  of  temper,  and  he  was  con 
tinually  quelling  fights  among  the  members  of  the 
outfit.  Where  only  argument  formerly  would  have 
arisen  over  differences  of  opinion,  guns  now  leaped 
forth;  and  the  differences  were  multiplied  greatly, 
and  getting  worse  every  day.  Things  which  ordi 
narily  would  have  provoked  no  notice,  or  a  laugh  at 
most,  now  caused  hot  words  and  surliness.  And  the 
reason  for  the  extra  work  was  the  continued  absence 
of  five  cow  punchers. 


The   Orphan 


Sneed,  tired  of  cursing  the  missing  men  and  of 
offering  himself  explanations  as  to  why  they  had 
not  returned,  fell,  instead,  to  planning  an  appropri 
ate  reception  for  them  on  their  return  to  the  ranch. 
He  needed  no  rehearsing,  for  while  he  did  not 
know  in  just  what  manner  he  would  reveal  his  ideas 
concerning  them,  he  knew  what  his  ideas  were  and 
he  had  always  been  good  at  extemporizing  when 
under  pressure,  and  he  was  under  pressure  now  if 
he  had  ever  been. 

The  extra  work  was  hard  enough  in  itself  to 
cause  his  anger  to  rise  and  to  create  sensitiveness 
and  surliness  on  the  part  of  his  men,  but  it  was  only 
one  factor  of  his  discontent.  Busy  all  day  at  driv 
ing  the  scattered  cattle  away  from  the  Backbone 
and  closer  to  the  ranch  proper  where  they  would  be 
less  likely  to  fall  prey  to  Apache  raiders;  working 
all  day  from  the  first  sign  of  dawn  to  the  prohibi 
tive  blackness  of  the  night,  they  could  have  stood 
up  under  the  strain,  for  these  were  men  of  iron, 
inured  to  hardships  and  constant  riding.  But  hardy 
as  they  were  there  was  one  thing  which  they  must 
have,  and  that  was  sleep.  If  they  could  have  only 
four  hours  of  unbroken  sleep  when  they  threw  them 
selves,  fully  dressed  with  the  exception  of  their 

132 


The  Cross  Bar-8  Loses  Sleep 


boots,  in  their  bunks,  they  could  have  endured  the 
labor  for  weeks.  But  this  was  denied  them,  and 
constantly  on  their  minds  were  thoughts  of  fire, 
slaughtered  cattle  and  death. 

For  a  week  night  had  been  a  terror  on  the  Cross 
Bar-8.  No  sooner  had  the  exhausted  outfit  fallen 
asleep  than  bits  of  window  glass  would  fly  about 
them,  cutting  and  stinging.  There  was  not  a  whole 
window  pane  in  the  house  and  the  door  was  so  full 
of  lead  that  it  sagged  on  its  half-shattered  hinges. 
Cooking  utensils  were  fast  deserving  premiums,  for 
hardly  an  unperforated  tin  could  be  found  on  the 
premises.  And  their  cook,  a  Mexican,  who  most 
devoutly  believed  in  a  personal  devil  and  a  brim 
stone  hell,  and  who  feared  that  he  was  living  in 
uncomfortable  proximity  to  both,  stood  the  strain 
for  just  two  nights  and  then,  panic-stricken,  had 
fled  from  the  accursed  place  and  left  them  to  get 
their  own  meals  as  best  they  could.  The  protection 
of  the  saints  was  all  very  well  and  good  under 
ordinary  circumstances,  but  when  they  failed  to  stop 
the  bullets  which  passed  through  his  cook  shack 
and  which  more  than  once  had  grazed  him,  it  was 
time  for  him  to  find  some  place  far  removed  from 
the  Cross  Bar-8,  and  where  the  devil  was  less 

133 


The   Orphan 


strong.  When  the  saints  allowed  a  devil-sped  bul 
let  to  completely  shatter  a  crucifix  it  was  time  to 
migrate,  which  he  did,  but  in  broad  daylight  when 
the  outfit  had  departed  and  when  the  devil  was  not 
in  evidence. 

The  interiors  of  both  the  ranch  house  and  the 
bunk  house  were  wrecked.  The  clock,  the  pride  of 
the  foreman,  stood  with  half  its  wheels  buried  in  the 
wall  behind  it  by  a  .50  caliber  slug,  its  hands  point 
ing  to  half-past  one.  Lead  filled  the  interior  walls, 
where  opposite  windows,  and  the  holes  and  splinters 
were  a  disgrace.  Sombreros,  equipment  and  the  few 
pictures  the  walls  boasted  were  like  tops  of  pepper 
shakers.  No  sooner  was  a  light  shown  than  it  be 
came  the  target  for  a  shot,  and  more  than  one 
wound  gave  proof  as  to  the  accuracy  of  the  perpe 
trator.  So  tired  that  they  fell  asleep  at  supper,  the 
men  were  constantly  awakened  by  the  noise  of 
devastation  and  the  whining  hum  of  the  bullets. 
Pursuit  was  a  failure,  and  was  also  hazardous,  as 
proven  by  Bert  Hodge's  arm,  broken  by  a  .50  cali 
ber  slug  from  somewhere. 

The  two  houses,  wrecked  as  they  were,  were  for 
tunate  when  compared  to  the  condition  of  the  other 
appurtenances  of  the  ranch.  Horses  were  found  dead 

134 


The  Cross  Bar-8  Loses  Sleep 


at  all  points,  and  always  with  a  bullet  hole  in  the  cen 
ter  of  the  forehead.  The  carcasses  of  cows  dotted 
the  plain,  and  fire  had  half-destroyed  the  three  cor 
rals.  The  three  new  cook  wagons,  unsheltered,  were 
denuded  of  bolts  and  nuts,  and  their  tarpaulins  were 
hopelessly  ruined.  A  wheel  was  missing  from  each 
of  them  and  their  poles  had  been  cut  through  in  the 
middle,  the  severed  ends  being  found  on  the  roof 
of  the  ranch  house  three  minutes  after  their  crash 
ing  descent  had  awakened  the  foreman,  who  heard 
the  hum  and  thud  of  a  bullet  as  he  opened  the  door. 
The  best  grass  had  been  burned  off  and  the  outfit 
had  fought  fire  on  several  nights  when  it  should 
have  slept.  And  the  small  water  hole  near  the  cook 
shack,  which  furnished  water  for  the  bunk  house, 
had  been  cleared  of  a  dead  calf  on  two  mornings. 
Scouting  was  of  no  avail,  for  the  few  remaining 
horses  (which  now  spent  the  night  in  the  bunk 
house)  were  as  exhausted  as  their  riders.  Keeping 
guard  was  a  farce,  for  it  had  been  tried  twice,  and 
the  guards  had  fallen  asleep;  and,  awakened  by 
their  foreman  at  dawn,  found  that  their  rifles,  som 
breros  and  even  their  spurs  were  missing.  With  all 
his  hatred  for  The  Orphan,  Sneed  was  fair-minded 
enough  to  give  his  enemy  credit  for  being  the  better 

135 


The   Orphan 


man.  When  the  harassing  outrages  had  first  begun 
and  the  foreman  and  his  men  were  comparatively 
fresh,  he  had  given  the  matter  his  whole  attention; 
and  he  was  no  fool.  But  he  had  gained  nothing 
but  a  sense  of  defeat,  which  fact  did  not  improve 
his  peace  of  mind  or  cause  him  to  lose  a  whit  of  his 
anger.  Do  what  he  could,  plan  as  he  might,  he  was 
beaten,  and  beaten  at  every  turn.  He  had  to  deal 
with  a  man  whose  cunning  and  ingenuity  were  far 
above  the  average;  a  man  who,  combining  a  rare 
courage  and  a  wonderful  accuracy  in  shooting  with 
devilish  strategy,  towered  far  above  the  ordinary 
rustler  and  outlaw.  Sneed  knew  that  he  was  abso 
lutely  at  the  mercy  of  his  persistent  enemy  and  won 
dered  why  it  was  that  he  did  not  steal  up  in  the 
night  and  kill  the  outfit  as  it  slept,  which  was 
entirely  feasible.  Finally,  when  the  strain  had 
grown  too  much  for  even  his  iron  nerves  the  sheriff 
was  implored  to  take  command  on  the  ranch  and 
give  it  his  personal  protection.  The  relations  be 
tween  the  sheriff  and  the  ranch  were  not  as  cordial 
as  they  might  have  been,  and  the  asking  of  this 
favor  was  gall  and  wormwood  to  the  foreman  and 
his  outfit. 

When  Shields  arrived  to  take  charge  of  the  trou- 

136 


The  Cross  Bar-8  Loses  Sleep 

ble,  accompanied  by  Charley  and  two  others,  he 
sought  the  foreman,  for  Charley  had  news  of  a 
grave  nature  for  the  Cross  Bar-8. 

The  foreman  ran  out  of  the  bunk  house  and  met 
them  near  the  corral,  where  the  disagreement  had 
taken  place. 

"  By  the  living  God,  Sheriff !  "  he  cried,  white 
with  anger.  "  This  thing  has  got  to  stop  if  we  have 
to  call  out  the  cavalry!  We  can't  get  a  decent 
breakfast — not  a  whole  plate  or  pan  in  the  house ! 
Our  cayuses  and  cows  are  being  slaughtered  by  the 
score !  And  as  for  the  rest  of  our  possessions,  they 
are  so  full  of  holes  that  they  whistle  when  the  wind 
blows !  " 

"  So  I  heard,"  replied  the  sheriff.  "  I'll  do  my 
best." 

"*  We've  been  doing  our  best,  but  what  good  is 
it?  "  cried  the  foreman.  "  We  are  so  plumb  sleepy 
we  go  to  sleep  moving  about!  We  dassent  show 
our  faces  after  dark  without  being  made  a  target 
of!  Our  new  wagons  are  wrecks,  the  corrals  de 
stroyed  and  the  best  grass  made  us  fight  for  our 
lives  while  it  burned !  That  cursed  outlaw  has  got 
to  be  killed,  d n  him !  " 

"  We'll  do  our  best,  Sneed,"  responded  Shields. 
137 


The   Orphan 


"  I  reckon  we  can  stop  it;  at  least  we  can  give  you 
a  good  night's  rest." 

1  Where  are  my  five  punchers?  "  Sneed  asked; 
his  words  bellowed  until  his  voice  broke.  "  And 

Bucknell!  D n  near  dead  before  you  found 

him  above  the  canon,  tied  up  like  a  package  of 
flour!" 

"  Well,  Charley  can  tell  you  about  your  men," 
Shields  responded,  viewing  the  devastation  on  all 
sides  of  him. 

"Well,  what  about  them?"  cried  the  foreman, 
turning  to  the  sheriff's  deputy,  anger  flashing  anew 
in  his  eyes. 

"  Well,"  Charley  slowly  began,  "  I  was  taking 
a  short  cut  this  morning,  and  when  I  got  to  a  place 
about  a  dozen  miles  southeast  of  the  mouth  of  Bill's 
canon,  I  saw  five  bodies  on  the  desert.  They  were 
your  cow-punchers,  and  they  was  so  full  of  arrows 
that  they  looked  like  big  brooms.  Apaches,  I 
reckon,"  he  added  sententiously. 

Sneed  tore  his  hair  and  swore  when  he  was  not 
choking. 

"  And  after  I  told  them  to  let  up  on  that  blasted 
outlaw's  trail!"  he  yelled.  "Where  will  it  end, 
between  war-whoops  and  murders?  What  sort  of 

138 


The  Cross  Bar-8  Loses  Sleep 

a  God-forsaken  lay-out  is  this,  anyhow?  A  man 
can't  stick  his  nose  out  of  his  own  house  after  dark 
without  having  it  skinned  by  a  slug!  He's  a 
h — 1  of  a  hefty  orphant,  he  is !  Poor  thing,  ain't 
got  no  paw  or  maw  to  look  after  his  dear  little 
hide!  He  needs  a  regiment  of  cavalry  for  a  papa, 
that's  what  he  needs,  and  a  good  strong  lariat  for 
a  mamma !  Orphant !  He's  a  h — 1  of  a  sump- 
tious  orphant !  " 

"  Have  you  trailed  him?  "  asked  the  sheriff,  hav 
ing  to  smile  in  spite  of  himself  at  the  execution  on 
all  sides  of  him,  and  at  the  foreman's  words. 

"  Trailed  him !  "  yelled  Sneed,  raising  on  his  toes 
in  his  vehemence.  "Trailed  him!  Good  God, 
yes !  But  what  good  is  it,  what  can  we  do  when  our 
cayuses  are  so  dod-gasted  tired  that  they  can't  catch 
a  tumble  bug?  Trailed  him !  Yes,  we  trailed  him, 
all  right!  We  trailed  him  until  we  fell  asleep  in 
the  saddles  on  our  sleeping  cayuses !  And  while  we 

were  gone,  d d  if  he  didn't  blow  in  and  smash 

up  our  furniture!  We  trailed  him,  all  right;  just 
like  a  lot  of  cross-eyed,  locoed  drunken  ants !  We 
had  to  wake  each  other  up,  and  he  could  a  killed 
the  whole  crowd  of  us  with  a  club !  And  my 
punchers  who  were  so  cock-sure  they'd  get  him ! 

139 


The  Orphan 


How  in  h — 1  did  they  go  and  mess  up  with 
Apaches  ?  They  wasn't  no  fool  kids !  " 

"  The  last  time  we  saw  them  they  were  leaving 
the  stage  to  go  south  after  him,"  Charley  said. 
"  They  hadn't  got  more  than  ten  miles  south  when 
they  must  have  met  the  Apaches.  I  have  a  suspicion 
that  The  Orphan  had  a  hand  in  that  meeting,  but 
how  he  did  it  I  don't  know.  But  I  know  that  the 
spot  was  lovely  for  a  head-on  collision.  Punchers 
riding  south  would  turn  the  corner  of  the  chaparral 
and  run  into  the  war  party  before  they  knowed  it. 
And  I  didn't  see  The  Orphant's  body  laying  around 
all  full  of  arrows,  neither." 

Sneed's  rage  was  pathetic.  He  almost  frothed, 
and  tears  stood  in  his  blood-shot  eyes.  His  neck 
and  his  face  were  red  as  fire  and  the  veins  of  his 
neck  and  forehead  stood  out  like  whip-cords,  while 
his  face  worked  convulsively.  He  was  incapable  of 
coherent  speech,  his  words  being  unintelligible 
growls,  a  series  of  snarls,  and  he  could  only  pace 
back  and  forth,  waving  his  arms  and  cursing  wildly. 

Shields  glanced  about  the  ranch  and  gave  a  few 
orders,  his  men  executing  them  without  delay.  One 
man  was  to  keep  guard  in  the  bunk  house  while 
Sneed  and  his  woe-begone  men  slept.  The  sheriff 

140 


The  Cross  Bar-8  Loses  Sleep 

and  Charley  rode  away  toward  the  north  to  begin 
the  search  for  the  outlaw;  and  there  was  to  be  no 
quarter  asked  or  given  if  his  deputies  had  anything 
to  do  with  it. 

The  remaining  deputy  busied  himself  about  the 
ranch  in  executing  a  plan  the  sheriff  had  thought 
out,  and  his  actions  were  peculiar.  First  selecting 
a  position  from  which  a  man  could  command  an 
extensive  view  of  the  premises,  he  began  to  pace 
off  distances  in  all  directions.  The  place  was  about 
eight  hundred  yards  west  of  the  ranch  house  and 
bunk  house,  and  formed  one  angle  of  a  triangle 
with  them;  and  from  it  it  was  possible  to  look  in 
through  the  windows  of  both  of  them.  Any  one 
passing  within  good  rifle  range  of  either  house 
would  show  up  against  the  lights  in  the  windows; 
and  if  a  man  had  been  covered  over  with  sand  on 
that  particular  outlying  angle,  he  could  pick  off  the 
intruder  without  being  seen.  The  Orphan  was  due 
to  meet  with  a  surprise  if  he  paid  his  regular  visit 
the  coming  night. 

The  deputy,  after  completing  his  work  to  his 
satisfaction  found  three  more  positions  where  they 
respectively  commanded  the  corrals,  the  wagons  and 
the  rear  of  the  bunk  house.  Then  he  paced  more 

141 


The   Orphan 


distances  and  was  careful  that  bulky  objects  inter 
posed  in  the  direct  lines  between  the  positions,  this 
latter  precaution  being  to  make  it  impossible  for 
the  deputies  to  shoot  each  other.  This  done,  he 
went  into  the  house  and  consulted  with  his  com 
panion  in  arms,  laughing  immoderately  about  the 
joke  they  would  play  on  the  marauder. 

While  Shields  and  Charley  vainly  searched  the 
plain  and  while  the  deputy  paced  and  thought  and 
paced,  and  while  Sneed  and  his  exhausted  cow- 
punchers  slept  as  if  in  death,  safely  under  guard, 
two  men  were  riding  along  the  Ford's  Station- 
Sagetown  Trail  well  to  the  east  of  the  Backbone, 
chatting  amicably  and  smoking  the  same  brand  of 
tobacco.  One  of  them  sat  high  up  in  the  air  on 
the  seat  of  a  stage  coach,  from  where  he  overlooked 
his  six-horse  team.  His  face  was  wreathed  in  grins 
and  his  expression  was  one  of  beatific  contentment. 
The  other  cantered  alongside  on  a  dirty  brown  horse 
which  had  a  white  stocking  on  the  near  front  foot, 
keeping  close  watch  of  the  surrounding  plain,  his 
mind  active  and  alert. 

Bill  Howland  laughed  suddenly  and  slapped 
his  thigh  with  enthusiasm:  "Say,  Orphant,"  he 
cried,  "  you  are  shore  raising  h — 1  with  that  Cross 

142 


The  Cross  Bar-8  Loses  Sleep 

Bar-8  gang !  You  has  got  them  so  tangled  up  and 
miserable  that  they  don't  know  where  they  are! 
If  their  brains  was  money  they'd  have  to  chalk  up 
their  drinks.  They're  about  as  dangerous  as  ossi 
fied  prairie  dogs.  They  remind  me  of  the  feller 
who  kicked  a  rattlesnake  to  see  if  it  was  alive,  and 
found  out  that  it  was.  No,  sir,  they  shore  won't 
die  of  brain  fever.  Why,  they  ain't  had  any  sleep 
for  a  week,  have  to  work  double  hard,  eat  what 
they  can  cook  in  sieve  tins,  and  can't  say  their  soul's 
their  own  after  dark.  They  could  get  rest  if  they 
quit  working  one  day  and  all  but  one  get  plenty  of 
sleep.  Then  the  other  feller  could  get  his  at  night. 
But  they  don't  know  enough.  Oh,  it's  rich :  the 
whole  blamed  town  is  laughing  at  'em  fit  to  bust. 
It's  the  funniest  thing  ever  happened  in  these  parts 
since  I've  been  out  here." 

Then  he  suddenly  paused:  "Say,  Sneed  sent  a 
puncher  to  town  this  morning.  It  was  that  brass- 
headed,  flat-faced  Bucknell,  what  you  tied  up  by  the 
canon.  He  begged  the  sheriff  to  swear  in  a  dozen 
bad  men  and  come  out  and  protect  his  foreman  and 
the  rest  of  the  outfit.  And  the  pin-headed  wart 
went  and  blabbed  the  whole  thing  right  in  front 
of  the  Taggert's  saloon  crowd,  and  he  shore  had 

H3 


The  Orphan 


to  blow,  all  right.  He  shore  did,  and  that  gang's 
always  thirsty." 

The  horseman  flecked  the  ashes  from  his  cigar 
ette  and  smiled:  "  Well?  "  he  asked,  looking  up. 

"  So  Shields  took  Charley  Winter  and  the  two 
Larkin  boys  and  went  out  to  the  ranch  right  after 
the  puncher  went  back.  So  you  want  to  go  easy 
to-night  or  you'll  touch  off  some  unexpected  fire 
works  and  such.  Shields  and  his  men  will  stay  out 
there  for  several  days  and  nights.  That'll  give  the 
crazy  hens  a  chance  to  rest  up  a  bit  nights.  But 
you  be  blamed  careful  about  them  pinwheels  and 
skyrockets  or  you'll  get  burned  some.  Now,  don't 
you  even  remember  that  /  told  you  about  it.  I 
wouldn't  a  said  nothing  at  all,  seeing  as  it  ain't  none 
of  my  business,  only  you  went  and  got  me  out  of  a 
tight  place,  and  Bill  Howland  don't  forget  a  favor, 
no  siree!  You  gave  me  a  square  deal  and  a  ace 
full  on  kings  with  them  animated  paint  shops,  and 
I'll  give  you  a  lift  every  time  I  can.  It  wouldn't 
be  a  bad  scheme  to  watch  for  me  once  in  a  while — 
I  might  have  some  news  for  you." 

Bill's  offer,  plain  as  it  was  that  he  wished  to  help, 
not  only  because  he  was  in  debt  to  the  outlaw,  but 
also  because  he  wished  to  have  safe  trips,  touched 

144 


The  Cross  Bar-8  Loses  Sleep 

the  horseman  deeply.  Never  in  his  life  had  The 
Orphan  been  offered  a  helping  hand  from  a 
stranger;  all  he  could  hope  for  was  to  get  the  drop 
first.  He  rode  on  silently,  buried  in  thought,  and 
then,  suddenly  flipping  his  cigarette  at  a  cactus, 
raised  his  head  and  looked  full  at  the  man  above 
him. 

"  You  play  square  with  me,  Bill,  and  Til  take 
care  of  yon/'  he  replied.  "  The  less  you  say,  the 
less  apt  you  are  to  put  your  foot  in  it.  I'll  hold  my 
mouth  about  your  information,  for  if  Shields  knew 
what  youVe  just  said  he'd  play  a  tune  for  you  to 
dance  to.  The  Cross  Bar-8  would  shoot  you  before 
a  day  passed.  Any  time  you  have  news  for  me,  tie 
your  kerchief  to  that  cactus,"  pointing  to  an  excep 
tionally  tall  plant  close  at  hand.  "  Do  it  on  your 
outward  trip.  If  I  see  it  in  time  I'll  meet  you  some 
where  on  the  Sagetown  end  of  the  trail  on  your 
return.  I'm  going  back  now,  so  by-by." 

"  So  long,  and  good  luck,"  replied  Bill  heartily. 
"  I'll  do  the  handkerchief  game,  all  right.  Be  some 
cautious  about  the  way  you  buzz  around  that 
stacked  deck  of  a  Cross  Bar-8  for  the  next  few 
days." 

The  Orphan  wheeled  and  cantered  back,  making 
145 


The  Orphan 


a  detour  to  the  south,  for  he  had  a  plan  to  develop 
and  did  not  wish  to  be  interrupted  by  meeting  any 
more  hunting  parties.  Bill  lashed  his  team  and 
rolled  on  his  way  to  Sagetown,  a  happy  smile  illu 
minating  his  countenance. 

"  They  can't  beat  us,  bronchs,"  he  cried  to  his 
team.  "  Me  and  The  Orphant  can  lick  the  whole 
blasted  territory,  you  bet  we  can  1  " 


146 


CHAPTER    X 

THE   ORPHAN    PAYS   TWO    CALLS 

SHORTLY  after  nightfall  a  rider  cantered 
along  the  stage  route,  fording  the  Limping 
Water  and  rode  toward  the  town,  whose 
few  lights  were  bunched  together  as  if  for  protec 
tion  against  the  spirits  of  the  night.  He  soon 
passed  the  scattered  corrals  on  the  outskirts  of 
Ford's  Station  and,  slowing  to  a  walk,  went  care 
lessly  past  the  row  of  saloons  and  the  general  store 
and  approached  a  neat,  small  house  some  two  hun 
dred  yards  west  of  the  stage  office.  He  appeared 
careless  as  to  being  seen ;  in  fact  a  casual  observer 
would  have  thought  him  to  be  some  cowboy  who 
was  familiar  with  the  town  and  who  feared  the 
recognition  of  no  man.  But  while  he  had  no  fear, 
he  was  alert ;  under  his  affected  nonchalance  nerves 
were  set  for  instant  action.  He  was  in  the  heart 
of  the  enemy's  country,  in  the  crude  stronghold  of 
the  Law,  and  if  anything  hostile  to  him  occurred 

147 


The   Orphan 


it  would  happen  quickly.  And  he  was  familiar 
with  the  town,  because  he  had  on  more  than  one 
occasion  ridden  through  and  explored  it,  but  never 
before  at  such  an  early  hour. 

Arriving  at  his  destination  he  dismounted  and, 
leaving  his  horse  unrestrained  by  rope  or  strap, 
walked  boldly  up  to  the  door  of  the  sheriff's  house 
and  knocked.  Soon  he  heard  footsteps  within  and 
the  door  opened  wide,  revealing  him  standing  hat 
in  hand  and  smiling. 

"  Good  evening,  ma'am,"  he  said  uneasily. 

The  sheriff's  wife  stepped  aside  and  the  light 
fell  full  on  his  face.  For  an  instant  she  was  at  a 
loss,  and  then  the  fresh  scar  on  his  forehead  and 
her  husband's  good  description  came  to  her  aid. 
She  gasped  and  stepped  back  involuntarily,  aston 
ished  at  his  daring.  Her  act  allowed  her  com 
panions  to  see  him  and  the  effect  was  marked. 
Miss  Ritchie  sat  upright  in  expectation,  her  face 
beaming,  for  this  was  as  romantic  and  unexpected 
as  she  could  wish.  Mary  gasped  and  dropped  her 
hands  to  her  side,  not  knowing  what  to  do  or  say, 
while  Helen  slowly  laid  her  work  aside  and  leaned 
forward  slightly,  regarding  him  intently,  a  curious 
expression  on  her  face. 

148 


The   Orphan  Pays  Two  Calls 

"  I  only  called  to  ask  how  the  ladies  were,"  he 
continued  slowly,  turning  his  hat  in  his  hands, 
apparently  not  noticing  Mrs.  Shields1  surprise.  "  I 
was  afraid  they  might  have — that  their  recent 
experience  might  have  bothered  them  some." 

Evidently  it  was  to  be  only  a  social  call,  and 
Mrs.  Shields  owed  something  to  this  fair-minded 
and  chivalrous  man.  She  smiled  kindly,  remem 
bering  that  the  caller  was  rather  well  thought  of 
by  her  husband — he  was  not  a  man  for  women  to 
fear,  whatever  else  he  might  be. 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you,"  she  replied.  "  Won't 
you  come  in?  "  she  asked  from  the  habit  of  polite 
ness,  hardly  expecting  that  he  would  do  so. 

"  Thank  you,  I  will  be  glad  to  for  a  minute," 
he  responded,  slowly  stepping  into  the  room, 
where  he  suddenly  felt  awkward  and  not  at  all 
comfortable. 

Helen  picked  up  her  work  to  fasten  a  thread, 
and  he  found  himself  marveling  at  the  cleverness 
of  her  fingers.  Again  laying  the  work  aside,  she 
arose  to  meet  him,  a  mischievous  twinkle  in  her 
dark  eyes.  It  was  so  unusual  to  have  been  saved 
by  an  outlaw  whom  her  brother  had  tried  to  cap 
ture,  and  still  more  unusual  to  have  him  dare  to 

149 


The   Orphan 


call  on  her  in  her  brother's  own  house,  especially 
after  her  sister's  direct  cut  at  the  coach. 

"  Won't  you  be  seated?  "  she  asked,  indicating 
her  own  chair  by  the  light  and  taking  his  hat. 
When  the  hat  left  him  he  suffered  a  loss,  for  he 
had  nothing  to  twist  and  grip.  He  replied  by 
dropping  into  the  chair,  not  even  seeing  that  it  was 
out  of  range  of  the  door  as  a  compliment  to  his 
hostess.  There  was  no  sign  of  a  weapon  on  him, 
his  holster  being  empty;  but  his  blue  flannel  shirt 
was  unbuttoned,  the  opening  hidden  by  his  neck- 
kerchief.  He  had,  however,  only  put  his  Colt 
there  to  have  it  out  of  sight,  and  not  because  he 
feared  trouble.  Habitual  caution  was  responsible 
for  the  shirt  being  open,  for  he  was  not  even  sure 
that  he  would  fight  if  trouble  should  come  upon 
him,  unless  the  women  gave  him  a  clear  field. 

Helen  drew  a  chair  from  the  wall  and  seated 
herself  in  the  semi-circle  which  faced  him. 

"  I  am  very  glad  that  your  wound  has  healed 
so  nicely,"  she  said  with  a  smile.  "  We  are  very 
sorry  that  you  were  hurt  in  our  defense." 

"  Oh,  it  wasn't  anything,"  he  quickly  replied, 
smiling  deprecatingly.  '*  You  fixed  it  up  so  nice 
that  it  didn't  bother  me  at  all — didn't  hurt  a  bit." 

150 


The  Orphan  Pays  Two  Calls 

"  I  am  glad  it  was  no  worse,"  she  replied,  look 
ing  around  the  circle.  "  Grace,  Mary,  you  surely 
remember  Mr. —  Mr. " 

"  Please  call  me  by  the  name  you  know  me 
by — The  Orphan,"  smiling  broadly.  "  I've  almost 
forgotten  that  I  ever  had  any  other  name." 

"  Mr.  Orphan — how  funny  it  sounds,"  she 
laughed.  "  It's  most  original.  Margaret,  this  is 
the  gentleman  to  whom  we  certainly  owe  our  lives. 
Oh!  I  know  you  don't  like  to  be  reminded  of  it," 
she  went  on,  answering  his  deprecatory  gesture, 
"  no  doubt  you  are  accustomed  to  that  sort  of  thing 
out  here,  but  in  the  East  such  an  experience  does 
not  often  occur." 

"  I  am  glad  indeed  to  know  and  thank  you," 
said  Mrs.  Shields,  impulsively  extending  her  hand. 
"  Your  bravery  has  put  me  still  deeper  in  your 
debt.  My  husband — "  her  feelings  overcame  her 
as  she  realized  that  this  was  the  man  who  had 
spared  to  her  that  husband,  her  laughing,  burly, 
broad-shouldered,  big-hearted  king  of  men.  Was 
it  possible  that  this  handsome,  confident  stripling 
was  his  peer? 

Helen  relieved  the  tension :  "  Mr.  Orphan,  this 
is  Miss  Ritchie,  the  same  Miss  Ritchie  who  was  so 


The  Orphan 


badly  frightened  when  she  first  met  you.  Perhaps 
you'll  remember  it.  And  this " 

"  I  wasn't!  I  wasn't  one  bit  frightened!  "  de 
clared  Miss  Ritchie  hotly,  to  The  Orphan's  great 
enjoyment. 

"  Now,  Grace,  don't  fib — you  can't  deny  it. 
And  this  is  my  sister  who  was  mean  enough  to  keep 
her  senses  when  I  didn't.  We  thought  highly  of 
you  then,  but  even  more  so  now.  You  see,  my 
brother  has  been  talking  about  you,  he  takes  a  keen 
interest  in  you,  Mr.  Orphan — I  declare  I  can't  help 
laughing  at  that  name,  it  sounds  so  funny;  but  you 
will  forgive  me,  won't  you?  I  knew  you  would. 
Well,  James  has  been  saying  nice  things  about  you, 
and  so  you  see  we  know  you  better  now.  He  likes 
you  real  well,  as  well  as  you  will  let  him,  and  I'm 
awful  sorry  that  he  is  not  at  home,"  she  dared,  her 
eyes  flashing  with  delight.  "  I  am  sure  he  would 
like  to  meet  you  very  much;  in  fact  he  has  said 
as  much.  Oh,  he  speaks  of  you  quite  often." 

The  caller  flushed,  but  he  was  determined  to  let 
them  think  him  perfectly  at  ease. 

"  I  am  glad  that  he  remembers  me,"  he  re 
sponded  gravely.  "  I  have  only  met  him  once,  but 
I  thought  he  was  rather  glad  to  see  me.  We  had 

152 


The  Orphan  Pays   Two  Calls 

a  very  enjoyable  time  together  and  I  found  him 
very  pleasant."  He  was  forced  to  smile  as  he 
recalled  the  six  Apaches  in  the  sheriff's  rear. 

"  Helen  was  just  saying  what  awful  risks  her 
brother  ran,"  Miss  Ritchie  remarked,  intently 
studying  the  rugged  face  before  her.  "  But  then, 
he's  a  man.  If  I  was  a  man,  I  wouldn't  be  afraid 
of  them!" 

"  My,  how  brave  you  are,  Grace,"  laughed  Mrs. 
Shields.  "  I  heard  quite  to  the  contrary  about  the 
stage  ride." 

"  Goodness,  Margaret !  "  retorted  Miss  Ritchie, 
up  in  arms  at  the  remark.  "  You  would  have  been 
afraid  in  that  old  coach  if  you  had  been  banged 
about  in  it  as  I  was.  The  noise  was  terrible,  and 
that  awful  driver !  " 

The  caller  smiled  at  her  spirit  and  then  replied 
to  her,  serious  at  once. 

"  Well,  he  does  take  chances,"  he  said.  "  But 
for  that  matter  every  man  out  in  this  country  has 
to  run  risks.  Now,  IVe  taken  some  myself,"  he 
added,  smiling  quizzically.  "  But,  you  know,  we 
get  used  to  them  after  a  while — we  get  used  to 
everything  but  hunger  and  thirst — and  life.  IVe 
even  gotten  used  to  being  lonesome,  and  I  find  that 

153 


Th e   Orphan 


it  really  isn't  so  bad  after  all.  And  then,  you 
know,  lonesomeness  does  have  its  advantages  at 
times,  for  it  certainly  promotes  peace,  and  the  car 
tridges  that  it  saves  are  worth  considerable.  But 
it  took  me  several  years  before  I  could  accept  it  in 
that  light  with  any  degree  of  ease." 

Helen  laughed  merrily,  for  she  most  of  all 
appreciated  this  outcast's  humor,  and  she  liked  him 
better  the  more  he  talked. 

'  Yes,  in  time  I  suppose  one  does  become  accus 
tomed  to  danger,"  she  replied,  "  although  I'll  be 
frank  enough  to  admit  that  I  don't  believe  I  could," 
glancing  at  her  friend.  "  You  risked  much  by 
coming  here  to-night — just  suppose  that  you  had 
called  last  night!  " 

'  The  danger  was  only  from  a  chance  recogni 
tion  in  the  street,"  he  replied,  smiling,  "  and  it 
would  have  been  equally  dangerous  for  the  man 
who  recognized  me,  and  perhaps  more  so,  since  I 
was  on  the  lookout — that  balances.  I  would  be 
the  last  man  anyone  would  expect  to  be  in  Ford's 
Station  at  this  time,  and  once  free  of  the  town,  I 
could  elude  the  pursuers  in  the  dark.  And  as  for 
the  sheriff,  I  knew  that  he  was  not  at  home  to 
night,  and,  had  he  been  so,  I  doubt  if  it  would 

154 


The  Orphan  Pays  Two  Calls 

have  stayed  me,  for  he  is  fair  and  square,  and  an 
unarmed  man  is  safe  with  him  in  his  own  house. 
He  understands  what  a  truce  means,  and  we  had 
one  before." 

Mrs.  Shields  smiled  at  him  in  such  warmth  that 
he  thanked  his  stars  that  he  had  played  fair  out  by 
the  bowlder. 

"  He  told  us  of  that!  "  Helen  exclaimed,  laugh 
ingly.  "  It  was  splendid  of  you,  both  of  you.  And, 
do  you  know,  I  liked  you  much  better  for  it.  And 
I  wanted  to  meet  you  again  and  talk  with  you ;  I'm 
dreadfully  curious." 

u  Helen !  "  reproved  her  sister,  and,  turning 
from  the  girl  to  him,  she  tried  to  explain  away  her 
sister's  boldness.  "  You  must  excuse  Helen,  Mr. — 
Mr.  Orphan,  because  she  is  not  a  day  older  than 
she  was  five  years  ago." 

"Why,  Mary!"  cried  Helen,  reproachfully, 
"  how  can  you  say  that?  Just  the  other  day  you 
said  that  I  was  quite  grown  up  and  dignified.  I 
am  sure  that  Mr. — oh,  goodness,  there's  that  name 
again !  "  she  bewailed.  "  Why  don't  you  get 
another  name — that  one  sounds  so  funny !  " 

The  Orphan  laughed:  "  I  am  not  responsible  for 
the  name,  I  had  no  hand  in  it.  But,  let's  see  what 

155 


The  Orphan 


we  can  do,"  he  said,  counting  on  his  fingers. 
"  There's  Smith,  Brown,  Jones — Jones  sounds 
well,  why  not  say  it?  "  he  asked  gravely.  "  I  am 
sure  that's  easier  to  say  and  remember." 

"  Yes,  that  is  better!  "  she  cried.  "  Let's  see," 
she  said,  experimenting.  "  Mr.  Jones,  Mr.  Jones — 
oh,  pshaw,  I  like  the  other  much  better.  I  trust 
that  I'll  get  accustomed  to  it  in  time,  and  I  cer 
tainly  should,  because  I  hear  it  enough;  only  then 
it  hasn't  that  formal  Mister  before  it.  And  it  is 
the  Mister  that  causes  all  the  trouble.  Now,  I'll 
try  it  again:  I'm  sure  that  The  Orphan  (I  said 
that  real  nicely,  didn't  I?)  I'm  sure  that  The 
Orphan  doesn't  think  me  lacking  in  dignity,  does 
he?  "  she  asked,  regarding  him  merrily,  and  with 
a  dare  in  her  eyes. 

"  Well,  now  really,"  he  began,  and  then,  seeing 
the  look  of  warning  in  her  face,  he  laughed  softly. 
"  Why,  really,  I  think  that  you  must  be  much  more 
dignified  than  you  were  five  years  ago." 

"  That's  such  a  neat  evasion  that  I  hardly  know 
whether  to  be  angry  or  not,"  she  retorted,  and 
then  turned  to  Miss  Ritchie,  who  was  smiling. 

"  Grace,"  she  cried,  "  for  goodness  sake,  say 
something !  You  don't  want  me  to  do  all  the  talk- 


The  Orphan  Pays  Two  Calls 

ing,  do  you?  "  and  before  her  friend  could  say  a 
word  she  began  a  new  attack,  her  eyes  sparkling 
at  the  fun  she  was  having. 

"  What  have  you  done  since  I  told  you  to  behave 
yourself?  "  she  asked,  assuming  a  judicial  serious 
ness  which  was  extremely  comical. 

He  laughed  heartily,  for  she  was  so  droll,  her 
eyes  flashing  so  with  vivacity,  and  so  rarely  beauti 
ful  that  he  breathed  deep  in  unconscious  effort  to 
absorb  some  of  the  atmosphere  she  had  created. 
And  he  was  not  alone  in  his  mirth,  for  Helen's 
audacity  had  caused  smiles  to  come  to  Miss  Ritchie 
and  Mrs.  Shields,  who  were  content  to  take  no  part 
in  the  conversation,  and  even  Mary  forgot  to  be 
serious. 

"  Well,  I  haven't  had  time  to  do  much,"  he  re 
plied  in  humble  apology,  "  although  I  have  been 
occupied  in  a  desultory  way  on  the  Cross  Bar-8  for 
a  week,  and  before  that  I  was  quite  busily  engaged 
in  traveling  for  my  health.  You  see,  this  climate 
occasionally  affects  me,  and  I  am  forced  to  go 
south  or  west  for  a  change  of  air.  I  was  just  start 
ing  out  on  my  last  trip  when  I  first  met  you,  and  I 
have  reason  to  believe  that  my  promptness  in  leav 
ing  you  saved  me  much  annoyance.  But  I  have 

157 


T h e   Orphan 


cooked  quite  a  few  meals  in  the  interim — and  I've 
learned  how  mutton  should  be  broiled,  too.  I'll 
have  to  confess,  however,  that  I  have  been  out  late 
nights.  But  then,  I'll  have  a  better  record  to  report 
next  time,  honest  I  will." 

Helen  leveled  an  accusing  finger  at  him:  "  You 
spoiled  all  the  cooking  utensils  on  that  ranch,  and 
you  scared  that  poor  cook  so  bad  that  he  fled  in 
terror  of  his  life  and  left  those  poor,  tired  men  to 
get  all  their  own  meals.  Now,  that  was  not  right, 
do  you  see  ?  The  poor  cook,  he  was  almost  fright 
ened  to  death.  I  am  almost  ashamed  of  you ;  you 
will  have  to  promise  that  you  will  not  do  anything 
like  that  again." 

"  I  promise,  cross  my  heart,"  he  replied  eagerly, 
thinking  of  the  five  dead  punchers  she  had  been 
kind  enough  to  overlook.  "  I  solemnly  promise 
never  to  scare  that  cook  again,"  then  seeing  that 
she  was  about  to  object,  he  added,  "  nor  any  other 
cook." 

"  And  you'll  promise  not  to  spoil  any  more  tins, 
or  terrorize  that  poor  outfit,  or  burn  any  more 
corrals,  and  everything  like  that?"  she  asked 
quickly,  for  she  detected  a  trace  of  seriousness  in 
his  face  and  wished  to  drive  home  her  advantage. 


The  Orphan  Pays   Two  Calls 

If  she  could  get  a  serious  promise  from  him  she 
would  rest  content,  for  she  knew  he  would  keep 
his  word. 

He  thought  for  an  instant  and  then  turned  a 
smiling  face  to  her.  Seeing  veiled  entreaty  in  her 
eyes,  he  suddenly  felt  a  quiet  gladness  steal  over 
him.  Perhaps  she  really  cared  about  his  welfare, 
after  all,  though  he  dared  not  hope  for  that.  He 
grew  serious,  and  when  he  spoke  she  knew  that  he 
had  given  his  word. 

"  I  promise  not  to  take  the  initiative  in  any  war 
fare,  nor  to  harass  the  Cross  Bar-8  unless  they 
force  me  to  in  self-defense,"  he  replied. 

She  hid  her  elation,  for  she  had  gained  the  point 
her  brother  had  failed  to  win,  and  did  not  wish  to 
risk  anything  by  showing  her  feelings.  As  if  to 
reward  him  for  yielding  to  her,  she  led  the  conver 
sation  from  the  personal  grounds  it  had  assumed 
and  cleverly  got  him  to  talk  about  the  country  and 
everything  pertaining  to  it. 

He  was  thoroughly  at  ease  now,  and  for  an  hour 
held  them  interested  by  his  knowledge  of  the  trails 
and  the  natural  phenomena.  He  told  them  of 
cattle  herding,  its  dangers  and  sports;  and  his 
description  of  a  stampede  was  masterly.  He  re- 

159 


The  Orphan 


counted  the  struggles  of  the  first  settlers  with  the 
Indians,  and  even  quite  extensively  covered  the 
field  of  practical  prospecting,  lightening  his  story 
with  nai've  bits  of  humor  and  witty  personal  opin 
ions  which  had  them  laughing  heartily.  It  was  not 
long  before  they  forgot  that  they  were  entertain 
ing,  or,  rather,  being  entertained  by  an  outlaw; 
and  as  for  himself,  it  was  the  most  pleasant  evening 
he  had  ever  known.  There  was  such  an  air  of 
friendliness  and  they  were  so  natural  and  human 
that  he  was  stimulated  to  his  best  efforts;  the  bar 
riers  had  been  broken  down. 

"  Oh,  James  says  that  you  are  a  wonderful 
shot !  "  cried  Helen,  interrupting  his  description  of 
a  shooting  match  at  a  cowboy  carnival  he  had  once 
attended  in  a  northern  town.  "  He  says  that  no 
man  ever  lived  who  could  hope  to  beat  you  with 
either  rifle  or  revolver,  six-shooter,  as  he  calls  it. 
Won't  you  let  me  see  you  shoot,  some  day?  " 

He  laughed  deprecatingly :  "  You  ask  the  sheriff 
to  shoot  for  you,"  he  responded.  "  He  can  beat 
me,  I'm  sure." 

"No,  he  can't!"  she  cried  impulsively,  "be 
cause  he  said  he  couldn't.  That  was  why  he 
couldn't  get  you — "  she  stopped,  horrified  at  what 

1 60 


The   Orphan  Pays   Two  Calls 

she  had  said.  Then,  determined  to  make  the  best 
of  it,  and  knowing  that  excuses  or  apologies  would 
make  it  worse,  she  hurriedly  continued:  "  He  says 
that  you  are  so  fair  and  square  that  he  just  will  not 
take  any  advantage  of  you.  He  likes  square  peo 
ple,  and  he  isn't  afraid  to  say  it,  either." 

The  Orphan  sat  silently  for  half  a  minute,  think 
ing  hard,  while  Mrs.  Shields  looked  anxiously  at 
him.  Here  was  peace  and  happiness.  The  sheriff 
could  come  and  go  as  he  pleased,  and  every  good 
citizen  was  his  friend.  He  had  a  home — a  pleasant 
contrast  to  the  man  who  spent  his  nights  under  the 
stars,  not  sure  of  his  life  from  day  to  day,  hounded 
from  point  to  point,  having  no  friend,  no  one  who 
cared  for  him ;  he  was  just  an  outlaw,  and  damned 
by  his  fellow  men.  Then  he  remembered  what 
Helen  had  said  before  leaving  him  at  the  coach. 
She  had  faith  in  him,  for  she  had  told  him  so — and 
she  would  not  lie.  Her  kindness  and  faith  in  him, 
an  outcast,  had  been  with  him  in  his  thoughts  ever 
since,  and  he  had  felt  the  loneliness  of  his  life 
heavily  from  that  day.  He  felt  a  strange  gnawing 
at  his  heart  and  he  slowly  raised  his  eyes  to  her, 
eagerly  drinking  in  her  radiant  beauty,  a  beauty 
wonderful  to  him,  for  never  before  had  he  seen  a 

161 


The  Orphan 


beautiful  woman.  To  him  women  had  always 
been  repellent — and  no  wonder.  He  scorned  those 
usually  found  in  the  cow  towns.  At  their  best  they 
were  only  ornaments,  and  to  The  Orphan's  mind 
ornaments  were  trash.  But  now  he  suddenly  awoke 
to  the  fact  that  she  was  more,  that  she  was  all  that 
was  worth  fighting  for,  that  she  was  the  missing 
half  of  his  consciousness.  And  she  herself  had 
given  him  heart  for  the  fight,  slight  as  it  was,  for 
he  was  like  a  drowning  man  clutching  at  straws. 
But  still  his  cynicism  swayed  him  and  made  him 
fear  that  it  would  be  a  hopeless  battle.  Again  he 
thought  of  her  brother  and  suddenly  envied  him, 
and  the  liking  he  had  felt  for  the  sheriff  became 
strong  and  clear.  Shields  was  a  white  man,  just 
and  square. 

He  slowly  raised  his  eyes  to  Mrs.  Shields  and 
smiled,  which  caused  her  look  of  anxiety  to  clear. 

"  The  Sheriff  is  the  whitest  man  in  this  whole 
country,"  he  said  quietly,  a  trace  of  his  mood  being 
in  his  voice,  "  and  only  for  that  did  I  play  square 
with  him.  In  confidence,  just  to  let  you  know  that 
I  am  not  as  bad  as  people  say,  I  will  tell  you  that 
I  have  had  him  under  my  sights  more  than  once, 
and  that  I  will  never  try  to  harm  him  while  he 

162 


The   Orphan  Pays   Two  Calls 

remains  the  man  he  is.  I  do  not  exaggerate  when 
I  say  that  I  am  naturally  a  good  judge  of  men,  and 
I  knew  what  he  was  in  less  than  a  minute  after  I 
met  him. 

"  At  this  minute  he  is  watching  for  me,  he  and 
Charley  Winter  and  the  Larkin  brothers.  They 
are  lying  quietly  out  on  the  plain,  waiting  for  me 
to  show  up  between  them  and  the  lights  of  the 
windows.  This  is  not  guesswork,  for  I  know  it. 
And  if  it  was  only  the  sheriff,  and  I  did  show  up 
over  his  sights,  he  would  call  out  and  give  me  a 
chance  to  surrender  or  fight,  and  not  shoot  me 
down  like  a  dog;  the  others  wouldn't.  And  be 
cause  of  my  faith  in  his  squareness,  and  because  I 
above  all  others  can  fully  appreciate  it  at  its  highest 
value,  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  remember  this, 
Mrs.  Shields :  If  he  ever  needs  a  man  to  stand  at 
his  back,  and  I  can  be  found,  he  has  only  to  let  me 
know.  He  is  compromising  himself  with  certain 
people  because  he  has  been  fair  to  me,  so  please 
remember  what  I  said.  He  is  the  sheriff,  and  he 
only  does  his  duty,  for  which  I  cannot  blame  him. 
Bill  Howland  may  be  able  to  find  me  if  trouble 
should  come  upon  you  and  yours. 

"  Others  have  hunted  for  me  as  if  I  was  a  cattle- 

163 


The  Orphan 


killing  wolf.  They  have  tracked  me  and  hounded 
me  in  gangs,  determined  to  shoot  me  down  at  the 
first  opportunity,  and  unawares,  if  possible.  They 
have  laid  traps  for  me,  tried  to  ambush  me,  and 
even  stooped  so  low  as  to  poison  the  water  of  a 
remote  water  hole  with  wolf  poison — strychnine. 
They  knew  that  I  occasionally  filled  my  canteen 
from  it.  Those  who  fight  me  foully  I  repay  in 
kind — but  never  with  poison !  It  is  my  wits  and 
gunplay  against  their's  and  against  their  cowardice 
and  dirty  tricks.  When  I  fight,  it  is  not  because  I 
want  to,  except  in  the  case  of  Indians,  but  because 
I  must  But  your  husband  is  a  white  man,  madam, 
a  thoroughbred.  He  stands  so  far  above  the  rest 
of  the  men  in  this  country  that  I  have  only  respect 
and  liking  for  him.  Can  you  imagine  the  sheriff 
using  poison  to  kill  a  man? 

"  Once  when  I  had  finally  found  a  good  berth 
punching  cows,  once  when  I  had  started  out  aright, 
I  was  discovered.  They  didn't  get  me,  though 
they  tried  to  hard  enough.  And  they  call  me  a 
murderer  because  I  declined  to  remain  inactive 
while  they  prepared  for  my  funeral!  Ever  since 
I  was  a  lad  of  fifteen  I  have  fought  for  my  life  at 
every  turn,  and  continually.  I  have  no  friends,  not 


The   Orphan  Pays   Two  Calls 

a  living  soul  cares  whether  I  live  or  die.  There  is 
no  one  whom  I  can  trust,  and  no  one  who  trusts 
me.  I  have  to  be  ever  on  the  lookout,  and  suspi 
cious.  Every  man  is  my  enemy,  and  all  I  have  is 
my  life,  worthless  as  it  is.  But  pride  will  not  let 
me  lose  it  without  making  a  fight. 

"  I  hope  the  time  will  come  when  you  can  see 
me  shoot,  Miss  Shields,  that  the  time  will  come 
when  I  can  turn  my  back  to  my  fellow  men  without 
fearing  a  shot.  Only  once  have  I  done  that — it  was 
with  your  brother,  and  I  enjoyed  it  immensely. 
And  no  one  will  welcome  that  day  more  devoutly 
than  the  outlawed  Orphan — the  many  times  mur 
derer — but  by  necessity:  for  I  never  killed  a  man 
unless  he  was  trying  to  kill  me,  and  I  never  will. 
I  know  what  is  said,  but  what  7  say  is  the  truth.  I 
can  only  ask  you  to  believe  me,  although  I  realize 
that  I  am  asking  much." 

He  arose  and  walked  over  to  his  sombrero,  tak 
ing  it  up  and  turning  toward  the  door. 

"  To-night  is  the  first  time  in  ten  years  that  I 
have  been  in  a  stranger's  house  unarmed,  and  at 
ease.  You  have  made  the  evening  so  pleasant  for 
me,  so  delightfully  strange,  and  you  all  have  been 
so  good  to  talk  to  me  and  treat  me  white  that  I 


The  Orphan 


find  it  impossible  to  thank  you  as  I  wish  I  could. 
Words  are  hopelessly  inadequate,  and  more  or  less 
empty,  but  you  will  not  lose  by  it,"  he  said  as  he 
opened  the  door.  "  Good  night,  ladies." 

The  door  closed  softly,  quickly,  and  the  women 
heard  the  cantering  hoofbeats  of  his  horse  as  they 
grew  fainter  and  finally  died  out  on  the  plain. 

His  departure  was  seemingly  unnoticed.  They 
sat  in  silence  for  a  minute  or  more,  each  lost  in  her 
own  thoughts,  each  deeply  affected  by  his  words, 
staring  before  them  and  picturing  each  as  her 
temperament  guided,  the  hunted  man's  dangers 
and  loneliness.  Mrs.  Shields  sat  as  he  had  left  her, 
her  chin  resting  in  her  hand,  seeing  only  two  men 
in  a  chaparral,  one  of  whom  was  the  man  she  loved. 
She  could  hear  the  shooting  and  the  war  cries,  she 
could  see  them  meet,  and  clasp  hands  at  the  part 
ing;  and  her  heart  filled  with  kindly  pity  for  the 
outcast,  a  pity  the  others  could  not  know.  Helen, 
her  face  full  in  the  light,  her  arms  outstretched  on 
the  table  before  her  and  her  eyes  moist,  wondered 
at  the  savage  unkindness  of  men,  the  almost  unbe 
lievable  harshness  of  man  for  man.  Her  head 
dropped  to  her  arms,  and  her  sister  Mary,  also 
under  the  spell,  wondered  at  the  expression  she  had 

166 


The  Orphan  Pays   Two  Calls 

seen  on  Helen's  face.  Miss  Ritchie,  who  had 
scarcely  given  more  than  a  passing  thought  to  the 
sadness  in  his  words,  was  picturing  his  fights, 
drinking  in  the  dash  and  courage  which  had  so 
exalted  him  in  her  mind.  With  all  his  loneliness, 
his  danger,  she  almost  envied  him  his  devil-may- 
care,  humorous  recklessness  and  good  fortune,  his 
superb  self-confidence  and  prowess.  Here  was  a 
man  who  fought  his  own  battles,  who  stood  alone 
against  the  best  the  world  sent  against  him,  giving 
blow  for  blow,  and  always  triumphing. 

Mrs.  Shields  stirred,  glanced  at  Helen's  bowed 
head  and  sighed: 

"  Now  I  understand  why  James  likes  him  so. 
Poor  boy,  I  believe  that  if  he  had  a  chance  he  would 
be  a  different  and  better  man.  James  is  right;  he 
always  is." 

"  I  think  he  is  just  splendid !  "  cried  Miss 
Ritchie  with  a  start,  emerging  from  her  dreams  of 
deeds  of  daring.  "  Simply  splendid!  Don't  you 
Helen?  "  she  asked  impulsively. 

Helen  arose  and  walked  to  the  door  of  her 
room,  turning  her  face  toward  the  wall  as  she 
passed  them :  "  Yes,  dear,"  she  replied.  "  Good 
night." 

167 


The   Orphan 


"  Oh,  why  are  men  so  cruel !  "  she  cried  softly 
as  she  paused  before  her  mirror.  "  Why  must 
they  fight  and  kill  one  another !  It's  awful  1  " 

The  door  had  softly  opened  and  closed  and  Miss 
Ritchie's  arms  were  around  her  neck,  hugging 
tightly. 

"  It  is  awful,  dear,"  she  said.  "  But  they  can't 
kill  him!  They  can't  hurt  him,  so  don't  you  care. 
Come  on  to  bed — I  have  so  much  to  talk  about! 
Don't  put  your  hair  up  to-night,  Helen — let's  go 
right  to  bed !  " 

Helen  impulsively  kissed  her  and  pushed  her 
away,  her  face  flushed. 

"  You  dear,  silly  goose,  do  you  think  I  am 
worrying  about  him?  Why,  I  had  forgotten  him. 
I'm  thinking  about  James." 

"  Yes,  of  course  you  are,"  laughed  Miss  Ritchie. 
"  I  was  only  teasing  you,  dear.  But  it  is  too  bad 
that  nobody  cares  anything  about  him,  isn't  it, 
Helen?" 

Tears  trembled  in  Helen's  eyes  and  she  turned 
quickly  toward  the  bed.  u  Well,  it's  his  own 
fault — oh,  don't  talk  to  me,  Grace !  Poor  James, 
all  alone  out  there  on  that  awful  plain !  I'm  just 
as  blue  as  I  can  be,  so  there !  " 

168 


The  Orphan  Pays   Two  Calls 

"  Have  a  good,  long  cry,  dear,"  suggested  Miss 
Ritchie.  "  It  does  one  so  much  good,"  she  added 
as  she  stepped  before  the  mirror.  "  But  I  think 
he  is  just  as  splendid  as  he  can  be — I  wish  I  was 
a  man  like  him !  " 

And  while  they  played  at  pretending,  the  man 
who  was  uppermost  in  their  thoughts  was  playing 
a  joke  on  the  sheriff  at  the  Cross  Bar-8  which 
would  open  that  person's  eyes  wide  in  the  morning. 

On  the  ranch  the  darkness  was  intense  and  no 
sounds  save  the  natural  noises  of  the  night  could 
be  heard.  The  sky  was  overcast  with  clouds  and 
occasionally  a  drop  of  rain  fell.  The  haunting 
wail  of  a  distant  coyote  quavered  down  the  wind 
and  the  cattle  in  the  corral  were  restless  and  uneasy. 
A  mounted  man  suddenly  topped  a  rise  at  a  walk 
and  then  stopped  to  stare  at  the  dim  lights  in  the 
windows  of  the  houses  nearly  a  mile  away.  He 
laughed  softly  at  the  foolishness  of  the  inmates 
trying  to  plot  for  his  death  by  doing  something 
they  had  not  dared  to  do  for  a  week.  Who  would 
be  so  foolish  as  to  ride  up  to  those  lighted  windows 
unless  he  was  a  tenderfoot? 

Leaping  lightly  to  the  grass,  he  hobbled  his 
169 


The  Orphan 


horse  and  then  took  a  bundle  from  his  saddle, 
which  he  strapped  on  his  back  and  then  went 
quietly  forward  on  foot,  peering  intently  into  the 
darkness  before  him.  Soon  he  dropped  to  his 
hands  and  knees  and  crawled  cautiously  and  with 
out  a  sound.  After  covering  several  hundred 
yards  in  this  manner  he  dropped  to  his  stomach 
and  wriggled  forward,  his  eyes  strained  for  dan 
gers.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  elapsed,  and  then  he 
heard  a  sneeze,  muffled  and  indistinct,  but  still  a 
sneeze.  Avoiding  the  place  from  whence  it  came, 
he  made  a  wide  detour  and  finally  stopped,  chuck 
ling  silently.  Untying  the  bundle  he  removed  it 
from  his  back  and  placed  it  upon  a  pile  of  sand, 
which  he  heaped  up  for  the  purpose,  and,  printing 
his  name  in  the  sand  at  its  base,  retreated  as  he 
had  come  and  without  mishap.  After  searching 
for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  for  his  horse  he  finally 
found  it,  removed  the  hobbles  and  vaulted  to  the 
saddle.  Wheeling,  he  rode  off  at  a  walk,  soon 
changing  to  a  canter,  in  the  direction  of  the  Limp 
ing  Water.  When  he  had  gained  it  he  chanced 
the  danger  of  quicksands  and  rode  north  along  the 
middle  of  the  stream.  If  he  was  to  be  followed, 
the  probability  was  that  his  pursuers  would  ride 

170 


The  Orphan  Pays  Two  Calls 

south  to  find  where  he  had  left  the  water ;  and  they 
must  be  delayed  as  long  as  possible. 

An  hour  later  daylight  swiftly  developed  and  a 
peculiarly  shaped  pile  of  sand  quaked  and  split 
asunder  as  a  man  arose  from  it.  He  shook  him 
self  and  spent  some  time  in  digging  the  sand  from 
his  pockets  and  boots  and  in  cleaning  his  rifle  of  it. 
Then  he  walked  wearily  toward  the  bunkhouse, 
whose  occupants  were  still  lost  in  the  sleep  of  the 
exhausted.  It  was  very  tedious  to  stay  awake  all 
night  peering  at  the  lights  in  the  distant  windows ; 
and  it  was  very  hard  to  keep  one's  eyes  from  clos 
ing  when  lying  in  that  position,  and  without  any 
sleep  for  twenty-four  hours.  The  sheriff  deter 
mined  to  crawl  into  a  bunk  as  soon  as  he  possibly 
could  and  be  prepared  for  his  next  vigil. 

As  he  glanced  over  the  plain  he  espied  something 
which  caused  him  to  stare  and  rub  his  tired  eyes, 
and  which  immediately  banished  sleep  from  his 
mind.  Running  to  it,  he  suddenly  stopped  and 
swore:  "Hell!"  he  shouted. 

His  wife's  blue  flower  pot  sat  snugly  on  the 
apex  of  a  pile  of  sand  and  from  it  arose  a 
geranium,  which  was  tied  to  a  supporting  stick  by 
a  white  ribbon.  He  had  whittled  that  stick  him- 

171 


The    Orphan 


self,  and  he  knew  the  flower  pot.  Roughly  traced 
in  the  sand  at  its  base  was  one  word — "  Orphan." 
"  Margaret's  geranium  in  its  blue  pot,  by 
God!  "  cried  the  sheriff,  his  mouth  open  in  amaze 
ment.  "Well,  I'll  be  d d!"  he  exclaimed, 

running  toward  the  corral  for  his  horse.  "  If  that 
son-of-a-gun  ain't  been  out  here  under  my  very  nose 
while  I  watched  for  him  1  " 


172 


CHAPTER   XI 

A  VOICE  FROM  THE  GALLERY 

MATTERS  were  fast  coming  to  a  head  as 
far  as  the  sheriff  and  the  Cross  Bar-8 
were  concerned.     The  loss  of  the  five 
men  who  had  won  the  friendship  of  their  fellows, 
the  reign  of  terror  caused  by  the  outlaw,  the  loss  of 
their  cook,  the  devastation  and  the  extra  work  had 
only  deepened  the  hatred  which  the  members  of  the 
outfit  held  for  The  Orphan;  and  it  went  farther 
than  The  Orphan. 

Sneed  was  not  long  in  learning  what  took 
place  at  the  stage  and  of  the  driver's  loyalty  to  the 
outlaw,  because  Bill  would  talk;  and  the  working 
of  his  mind  was  the  same  as  that  of  his  men,  for  it 
followed  the  line  of  least  resistance.  Questions  of 
the  nature  of  arraignments,  and  which  were  answer 
able  by  the  outfit  in  only  one  way,  constantly  pre 
sented  themselves  in  the  minds  of  the  men.  They 
asked  themselves  why  it  was  that  a  man  of  the 


The   Orphan 


sheriff's  proven  courage,  marksmanship  and  clever 
ness  should  fail  to  get  the  man  who  so  terrorized 
the  ranch.  Why  was  the  sheriff  so  apparently 
reluctant  to  take  up  the  chase  in  earnest  and  push 
it  to  a  finish?  Why  was  he  so  firm  against  the 
assistance  of  the  ranchmen?  Why  did  he  keep  to 
his  determination  to  allow  no  lynch  law  when  the 
evil  was  so  great  and  the  danger  so  pressing?  And 
he  was  prepared  to  go  to  great  lengths  to  see  that 
his  orders  were  not  disobeyed,  as  proven  by  the 
scene  at  the  corral.  Why  could  he  not  have  over 
looked  one  lynching  party  when  property  was  being 
destroyed  and  lives  in  danger?  And  why  had  the 
outrages  suddenly  ceased  when  Shields  took  charge 
of  the  defense  of  the  ranch? — there  had  been  no 
molestation,  not  a  shot  had  been  fired,  not  a  cow 
killed.  And  how  was  it  that  a  flower  pot,  which 
Shields  had  admitted  as  belonging  to  his  wife,  had 
been  placed  at  a  point  hardly  two  hundred  yards 
in  front  of  the  peace  officer  as  he  lay  on  guard?  It 
was  true  that  it  was  out  of  line  of  him  and  the 
lights,  but  that  could  be  explained  by  events.  From 
whom  did  The  Orphan  learn  of  the  trap  set  for 
him,  and  all  of  its  details,  even  to  the  placing  of 
the  men,  enabling  him  to  avoid  the  eager  deputies 


A   Voice  from  the  Gallery 


and  choose  the  position  occupied  by  the  sheriff 
when  he  had  so  recklessly  flaunted  his  contempt 
from  a  pile  of  sand? 

The  cowboys  were  naturally  enough  warped  and 
prejudiced  because  of  their  blind  rage  and  hatred, 
and  the  questions  which  ran  so  riotously  through 
their  minds  found  their  answers  waiting  for  them ; 
in  fact,  the  answers  induced  the  questions,  and  each 
recurrence  gave  them  added  weight  until  they 
ceased  to  be  questions  and  became,  in  reality,  state 
ments  of  facts.  Bill  had  talked  too  much  when  he 
had  told  in  careful  detail  of  the  attentions  shown 
The  Orphan  by  the  sheriff's  sister;  and  to  minds 
eager  for  confirmation  of  their  suspicions  this  was 
the  crowning  proof  of  the  double  dealing  of  the 
sheriff.  And  to  make  matters  worse,  Tex  Williard, 
who  was  as  unscrupulous  a  man  as  ever  wore  the 
garb  of  honesty,  had  tried  to  force  his  attentions  on 
Helen  when  she  rode  for  exercise.  His  ideas  of 
women  had  been  developed  among  those  who 
frequented  frontier  bar-rooms,  and  he  was  enraged 
at  his  rebuff,  which  had  been  sharp  and  final.  She 
actually  preferred  a  murdering  outlaw  to  a  hard 
working  cowboy!  His  profane  oratory  as  to  the 
collusion,  or  at  least  passive  sympathy  between  the 

175 


T h e  Orphan 


sheriff  and  the  outlaw  found  eager  ears  and  recep 
tive  minds  awaiting  the  torch  of  initiative,  and  it 
was  not  long  before  low-voiced  consultations  began 
to  plan  a  drastic  course  of  action.  Credit  must  be 
given  to  Sneed,  because  he  knew  only  of  the  natural 
discontent  and  nothing  of  what  was  in  the  wind. 
Had  he  known  what  was  brewing  he  would  have 
stamped  it  out  with  no  uncertain  force,  for  he  was 
wise  enough  to  realize  the  folly  of  increasing  the 
antagonism  which  already  was  held  by  Ford's  Sta 
tion  for  his  ranch. 

At  first  the  conspirators  had  hopes  of  undermin 
ing  Shields  among  the  citizens  of  the  town,  not 
knowing  the  feeling  there  as  well  as  their  foreman 
knew  it,  but  they  were  wise  enough  to  go  about  it 
cautiously;  and  the  returns  justified  their  caution, 
for  they  found  the  inhabitants  of  Ford's  Station 
unassailably  loyal  to  the  peace  officer.  To  accuse 
him,  either  directly  or  by  suggestion,  of  double 
dealing  would  be  to  array  the  two  score  inhabitants 
of  the  town  on  his  side  in  hot  and  belligerent  parti 
sanship,  and  this  they  wished  to  avoid  by  all  means, 
for  they  had  no  stomach  for  such  a  war  as  migh 
easily  follow.  They  then  hit  upon  what  appeared 
to  them  to  be  an  excellent  plan,  inasmuch  as  it  was 


A  Voice  from  the  Gallery 


indirect  and  would  give  the  results  desired ;  and  the 
medium  was  to  be  the  driver. 

The  talkative  one  had  shown  more  than  passing 
friendliness  for  The  Orphan,  and  they  had  his 
boasting  words  for  it  and  he  could  not  deny  it,  for 
Bill  was  very  proud  of  the  part  he  had  played  on 
that  memorable  day,  and  he  took  delight  in  recount 
ing  the  conversation  he  had  held  with  the  outfit  at 
the  coach — and  he  had  a  way  of  adding  to  the  tart 
ness  of  his  repartee  in  its  repetition.  Tex  Williard 
reasoned  from  experience  that  it  would  not  appear 
at  all  strange  and  unusual  for  Bill  to  be  called  to 
account  for  his  friendliness  and  assistance  to  the 
outlaw  and  for  his  contemptuous  words  concerning 
the  cowboys  if  it  was  done  by  some  member  or  mem 
bers  of  the  ranch  as  a  personal  affair  and  without 
the  appearance  of  being  sanctioned  by  the  foreman. 
And  through  the  driver  he  hoped  to  strike  at 
Shields,  for  the  sheriff  would  not  remain  passive  in 
such  an  event ;  and  once  he  was  drawn  into  a  brawl, 
hot  tempers  or  accident  would  be  the  plea  if  he 
should  be  killed.  The  apologies  and  remorse  of  the 
:orrowful  participants  could  be  profound.  And 
thus  was  cold-blooded  murder  planned  by  the  very 
men  who  reviled  The  Orphan  because  they 

177 


The    Orphan 


claimed  he  was  a  murderer,  and  who  cried  aloud 
for  his  death  on  that  charge. 

Tex  was  the  ringleader  and  in  his  own  way  he 
was  not  without  cunning,  and  neither  was  he  lack 
ing  in  daring.  He  selected  his  assistants  for  the 
game  with  cool,  calculating  judgment.  The  three  he 
finally  decided  upon  were  reckless  and  not  lacking 
in  intelligence  and  physical  courage  for  such  work. 
After  having  made  his  selection  he  sounded  them 
carefully  and  finally  made  his  plans  known,  going 
into  minute  rehearsal  of  every  phase  and  detail  of 
the  game  with  thoughtful  care  and  studied  sequence. 
When  he  believed  them  to  be  well  drilled  he  fixed 
upon  the  time  and  place  and  caused  word  to  get  to 
Bill  that  he  might  expect  trouble  for  his  assistance 
to  The  Orphan,  and  for  having  had  a  hand  in 
sending  the  five  cowboys  to  their  deaths.  The  news 
immediately  reached  the  ears  of  the  sheriff,  who 
determined  to  see  that  Bill  received  no  injury  at  the 
hands  of  the  Cross  Bar-8.  He  quietly  made  up 
his  mind  to  be  near  the  stage  route  on  the  days  when 
Bill  drove  through  the  defile  of  the  Backbone,  and 
to  be  within  call  if  he  should  be  needed.  If  he 
should  think  it  necessary,  he  would  even  go  so  far 
as  to  become  a  regular  passenger  in  the  coach  until 


A  Voice  from  the  Gallery 


the  trouble  died  down.  To  the  masterly  driving 
and  cool-headed  courage  of  Bill  no  less  than  to  the 
daring  and  accuracy  of  The  Orphan  was  the  sheriff 
indebted  for  the  lives  of  his  sisters;  and  the  pro 
tection  of  Bill  clove  close  to  the  line  of  duty,  and 
not  one  whit  less  to  the  line  of  law  and  order. 

Bill  laughed  and  boasted  and  made  a  joke  of  the 
thought  of  any  danger  from  the  malcontents  of  the 
Cross  Bar-8,  and  flatly  refused  to  allow  the  sheriff 
to  ride  with  him.  He  talked  volubly  until  the 
agent  profanely  sent  him  on  his  journey,  and  he 
tore  through  the  streets  of  the  town  in  the  same 
old  way.  He  forded  the  Limping  Water  in  safety 
and  crossed  the  ten  mile  stretch  of  open  plain  with 
out  a  sign  of  trouble.  As  he  left  the  water  of  the 
stream  the  sheriff  started  after  him  from  town, 
intending  to  be  not  far  behind  him  when  he  entered 
the  rough  country.  . 

When  Bill  plunged  into  the  defile  through  the 
Backbone  he  began  to  grow  a  little  apprehensive, 
and  he  intently  watched  each  stretch  of  the  road  as 
each  successive  turn  unfolded  it  to  his  sight.  His 
foot  was  on  the  brakes  and  he  was  braced  to  stop 
the  rush  of  his  team  at  the  first  glimpse  of  an 
obstruction,  or  to  tear  past  the  danger  if  he  could. 

179 


The   Orphan 


One  coyote  yell  and  one  snap  of  the  whip  would 
send  the  team  wild,  for  they  remembered  well. 

All  was  nice  until  he  neared  the  place  where  The 
Orphan  had  held  him  up  for  a  smoke,  and  it  was 
there  the  trouble  occurred.  As  he  swung  around 
the  sharp  turn  he  saw  four  cowboys  bunched 
squarely  in  the  center  of  the  trail  and  at  such  a 
distance  from  him  that  to  attempt  to  dash  past 
them  would  be  to  lay  himself  open  to  several  shots. 
They  had  him  covered,  and  as  he  grasped  the  situ 
ation  Tex  Williard  rode  forward  and  held  up  his 
hand. 

"  Stop !  "  Tex  shouted.    "  Get  down  I  " 
"What  in  thunder  do  you  want?  "  Bill  asked, 
setting  the  brakes  and  stopping  his  team,  wonder 
showing  on  his  face. 

"  Yu !  "  came  the  laconic  reply.  "  Get  down !  " 
"What's  eating  you?"  Bill  asked  in  no  uncer 
tain  inflection.  Had  Tex  been  less  imperative  and 
kept  the  insulting  tone  out  of  his  words  Bill  might 
have  had  time  to  become  afraid,  but  the  sting  made 
him  leap  over  fear  to  anger;  and  genuine  anger 
takes  small  heed  of  fear. 

Tex  motioned  to  one  of  his  men,  who  instantly 
leaped  to  the  ground  and  ran  to  the  turn,  where  he 

1 80 


A  Voice  from  the  Gallery 


knelt  behind  a  rock,  his  rifle  covering  the  back  trail. 
Then  Tex  returned  to  the  driver. 

"  Curiosity  is  eating  me,   yu  half-breed!"   he 

cried.    "  GET  DOWN  !   d n  yu,   GET  DOWN  ! 

Don't  wait  all  day,  neither,  do  yu  hear?     What 
th'  h— 1  do  yu  think  I'm  a-talkin'  for !  " 

"Well,  I'll  be  blamed!  "  ejaculated  Bill,  wrap 
ping  the  reins  about  the  back  of  his  seat.  "  Any 
body  would  think  you  was  the  boss  of  the  earth  to 
hear  you !  You  ain't  no  road  agent,  you're  only  a 
fool  amature  with  more  gall  than  brains !  But  I'll 
tell  you  right  here  and  now  that  if  you  are  playing 
road  agent,  I  wouldn't  be  in  your  fool  boots  for  a 
cool  million.  And  if  you  are  joking  you  are  show 
ing  d d  bad  taste,  and  don't  you  forget  it. 

You're  holding  up  a  sack  of  U.  S.  mail,  and  if  you 
don't  know  what  that  means " 

"  Shut  yore  face !  Yu  talk  when  I  ask  yu  to !  " 
shouted  Tex  as  the  driver  dropped  to  the  ground. 
"  But  since  yore  so  unholy  strong  on  th'  palaver, 
suppose  yu  just  explains  why  yu  are  so  all-fired 
friendly  to  Th'  Orphant  ?  Suppose  yu  lisp  why  yu 
take  such  a  peculiar  interest  in  his  health  and  happi 
ness.  Come  now,  out  with  it — this  ain't  no  Quaker 
meeting." 

181 


The   Orphan 


"  Warble,  birdie,  warble !  "  jeered  one  of  the 
cowboys.  "  Sing,  yu !  " 

"  We're  shore  waitin',  darlin',"  jeered  another. 
"  Tune  up  an'  get  started,  Windy." 

"  Well,  since  you  talks  like  that/'  cried  Bill, 
stung  to  reckless  fury  at  the  cutting  contempt  of  the 
words,  "  you  can  go  to  h — 1  and  find  out  from 
your  fool  friends !  "  he  shouted,  beside  himself  with 
rage.  "  Who  are  you  to  stick  me  up  and  ask  ques 
tions?  It's  none  of  your  infernal  business  who  I 
like,  you  hog-nosed  tanks !  Why  didn't  you  bring 
some  decent  men  with  you,  you  flat-faced  skunks? 
Why  didn't  you  bring  Sneed!  White  men  would 
a  told  you  just  what  you  are  if  you  asked  them  to 
help  you  in  your  dirty  work,  wouldn't  they?  Even 
a  tin-horn  gambler,  a  crooked  cheat,  would  give  me 
more  show  for  my  money  than  you  have,  you  bow- 
legged  coyotes !  Ain't  you  man  enough  to  turn  the 
trick  alone,  Williard?  Can't  you  play  a  lone  hand 
in  ambush,  you  bob-tailed  flush  of  a  bad  man ! 
You're  only  a  lake-mouthed,  red-headed  wart  of  a 
two-by-four  puncher,  that's  what " 

Tex  had  been  stunned  by  surprise  at  such  an  out 
burst  from  a  man  whom  he  had  always  regarded  as 
woefully  lacking  in  courage.  Then  his  face  flamed 

182 


A  Voice  from  the  Gallery 


with  an  insane  rage  at  the  taunting  insults  hurled 
venomously  at  him  and  he  sprang  to  action  as 
though  he  had  been  struck.  It  would  have  been 
bad  enough  to  hear  such  words  from  an  equal,  but 
from  Bill! 

"  Yu  cur!  "  he  yelled  as  he  leaped  forward  into 
the  tearing  sting  of  the  driver's  whip,  which  had 
been  hanging  from  the  wrist. 

"  You're  the  fourth  dog  I  cut  to-day,"  Bill  said, 
jerking  it  back  for  another  try. 

Tex  shivered  with  pain  as  the  lash  cut  through 
his  ear,  as  it  would  have  cut  through  paper,  and 
screamed  his  words  as  he  avoided  the  second  blow. 
"  I'll  show  yu  if  I  am  man  enough !  I'll  kill  yu  for 
that,  d n  yu  I  " 

As  Tex  threw  his  arms  wide  open  to  clinch,  Bill 
leaped  aside  and  drove  his  heavy  fist  into  the  cow 
man's  face  as  he  passed,  knocking  him  sidewise 
against  the  wall  of  the  defile;  and  then  struggled 
like  a  madman  in  the  toils  of  two  ropes.  He  was 
a  Berserker  now,  a  maniac  without  a  hope  of  life, 
and  he  screamed  with  rage  as  he  tore  frantically  at 
the  rough  hair  ropes,  wishing  only  to  destroy,  to 
kill  with  his  bare  hands.  The  blow  had  not  been 
well  placed,  being  too  high  for  the  vital  point,  but 


The    Orphan 


it  had  smashed  the  puncher's  nose  flat  to  his  face 
and  one  eye  was  fast  losing  its  resemblance  to  the 
other.  Tex  staggered  to  his  feet  and  returned  to  the 
attack,  striking  savagely  at  the  face  of  the  bound 
man.  Bill  avoided  the  blow  by  jerking  his  head 
aside  and  snarled  like  a  beast  as  he  drove  the  heel 
of  his  heavy  boot  into  his  enemy's  stomach.  Then 
everything  grew  black  before  his  eyes  and  a  roar 
ing  sound  filled  his  ears.  The  rope  slackened  and 
the  men  who  had  thrown  him  head-first  on  a  rock 
leaped  from  their  horses  and  ran  to  him. 

When  his  senses  returned  he  found  himself  bound 
hand  and  foot  and  under  a  spur  of  rock  which 
projected  from  the  bank  of  the  cut.  His  face  was 
cut  and  bruised  and  his  scalp  laid  open,  but  through 
the  blood  which  dripped  from  his  eyebrows  he 
vaguely  saw  Tex,  bent  double  and  rocking  back  and 
forth  on  the  ground,  intoned  moans  coming  from 
him  with  a  sound  like  that  made  by  a  rasp  on  the 
edge  of  a  box. 

As  Bill's  brain  cleared  he  became  conscious  of 
excruciating  pains  in  his  head,  as  if  hammers  were 
crashing  against  his  skull.  Glancing  upward  he 
saw  that  a  rope  ran  from  his  neck  to  the  rock,  over 
it  and  then  to  the  pommel  of  a  saddle,  and  his  face 

184 


A   Voice  from  the  Gallery 


twitched  as  its  meaning  sifted  through  his  mind. 
Then  he  thought  of  the  time  The  Orphan  had  held 
him  up  in  the  defile — how  unlike  these  men  the  out 
law  was !  If  he  would  only  come  now — what  joy 
there  would  be  in  the  flashing  of  his  gun;  what 
ecstasy  in  the  confusion,  panic,  rout  that  he  would 
cause.  He  was  dazed  and  the  throbbing,  heavy, 
monotonous  pain  dulled  him  still  more.  He  seemed 
to  be  apart  from  his  surroundings,  to  be  an  on 
looker  and  not  an  actor  in  the  game.  He  wondered 
if  that  whip  was  his :  yes,  it  must  be  ...  cer 
tainly  it  was.  He  ought  to  know  his  own  whip 
.  .  .  of  course  it  was  his.  He  regarded  Tex 
curiously  .  .  .  there  had  been  Indians,  or  was 
it  some  other  time?  What  was  Tex  doing  there 
on  the  ground  ?  He  struggled  to  think  clearly,  and 
then  he  knew.  But  the  deadening  pain  was  merciful 
to  him,  it  made  him  apathetic.  Was  he  going  to 
die?  Perhaps,  but  what  of  it?  He  didn't  care,  for 
then  that  pain  wouldn't  beat  through  him.  Tex 
looked  funny.  .  .  .  He  closed  his  eyes  wearily 
and  seemed  to  be  far  away.  He  was  far  away,  and, 
oh,  so  tired! 

Tex    finally    managed    to    gain    his    feet    and 
straighten  up  and  revealed  his  face,  bloody  and 

185 


The  Orphan 


swollen  and  black  from  the  blow.  His  words  came 
with  a  hesitation  which  suggested  pain,  and  they 
were  mumbled  between  split  and  swollen  lips. 

"  Now,  d n  yu !  "  he  cried,  brokenly,  stag 
gering  to  the  helpless  man  before  him.  "  Now 
mebby  yu'll  talk !  Why  did  yu  help  Th'  Orphant  ? 
If  yu  lie  yu'll  swing!  " 

Bill  swayed  and  his  eyes  opened,  and  after  an 
interval  he  slowly  and  wearily  made  reply,  for  his 
senses  had  returned  again. 

"  He  saved  my  life,"  he  said,  "  and  I'll  help- 
anybody  for  that." 

"  Oh,  he  did,  did  he  ?  "  jeered  Tex.  "  An'  why  ? 
That  ain't  his  way,  helpin'  strangers  at  his  own 
risk.  Why?" 

"  There  was  women — in  the  coach." 

"  Oh,  there  was,  hey?  "  ironically  remarked  Tex. 
"  Mebby  he  wanted  'em  all  to  himself,  eh?  " 

"  He's  a  white  man,  not  a  cur." 

"  He's  a  cub  of  th'  devil,  that's  what  he  is!  " 

Tex  cried.  "  He  ain't  no  orphant,  not  by  a  d d 

sight — th'  devil's  his  father,  an'  all  hell  is  his 
mother.  Now,  I  want  an  answer  to  this  one,  and  I 
want  it  quick:  no  lie  goes.  Why  don't  th'  sheriff 
get  busy  an'  camp  on  his  trail?  What  interest  has 

186 


A  Voice  from  the  Gallery 


th'  sheriff  an'  Th'  Orphant  in  each  other?  Come 
on,  out  with  it  1  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Bill,  wishing  that  the 
sheriff  was  at  hand  to  make  an  appropriate  answer. 
"  Ask  him,  why  don't  you?  "  he  asked,  stretching 
his  neck  to  ease  the  hairy,  bristling  clutch  of  the 
lariat. 

"  Oh,  yu  don't,  an'  yore  still  cheeky,  eh?  "  cried 

the  inquisitor.  "  An'  yu  want  yore  d d  neck 

stretched,  do  yu  ?  " 

He  motioned  to  the  man  on  the  horse  at  the 
end  of  the  rope  and  Bill  straightened  up  and  day 
light  showed  under  his  heels.  As  he  struggled 
there  was  an  interruption  from  the  man  who  cov 
ered  the  back  trail :  "  'Nds  up !  "  he  cried.  "  Don't 
move !  " 

Tex  signalled  for  Bill  to  be  let  down  and  ran 
backward  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  defile  until 
he  could  see  around  the  turn ;  and  he  discovered  the 
sheriff,  who  sat  quietly  under  the  gun  of  the  cow 
boy. 

"  Stop !  Don't  yu  even  wiggle !  "  cried  the 
guard.  "  I'll  blow  yore  head  off  at  the  first 
move!  "  he  added  in  warning;  and  for  once  in  his 
eventful  life  Shields  knew  that  he  was  absolutely 


The   Orphan 


helpless,  for  the  time,  at  least.  His  hands  were 
clasped  over  his  sombrero,  for  it  would  be  tiresome 
to  hold  them  out,  and  he  felt  that  he  might  have 
need  of  fresh,  quick  muscles  before  long. 

"  All  right,  all  right,  bub,"  he  responded  in  per 
fect  good  nature,  apparently.  "  Don't  get  nervous 
and  let  that  gun  go  off,  for  it's  shore  your  turn 
now,"  he  added,  smiling  his  war  smile.  "  Any  par 
ticular  thing  you  want,  or  are  you  just  practicing 
a  short  cut  to  eternity?  " 

"  I  want  yu  to  stay  just  like  yu  are!  "  snapped 
the  man  with  the  drop.  "  And  yu  keep  yore  mouth 
shut,  too !  " 

"  Since  it's  your  last  wish,  why,  it  goes,"  replied 
the  sheriff,  ignoring  the  command  for  silence. 
"  Got  any  message  for  your  folks?  Any  keep-sakes 
you'd  like  to  have  sent  back  East?  Give  me  the 
address  of  your  folks  and  I'll  send  them  your  last 
words,  too." 

"  That's  enough,  Sheriff,"  said  Tex,  moving  cau 
tiously  forward  behind  his  leveled  Colt.  "  I'll  do 
all  th'  talkin'  that's  necessary;  yu  just  listen  for  a 
while." 

"  Well,  well,"  replied  the  sheriff,  grinning  and 
simulating  surprise.  "  If  here  ain't  Tex  Williard, 

188 


A  Voice  from  the  Gallery 


too!  What's  your  pet  psalm,  sonny?  Good  God, 
what  a  face !  " 

"  What's  that  got  to  do  with  this?  "  asked  Tex, 
intently  watching  for  war. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  nothing  at  all,"  replied  the  sher 
iff.  "  But,  Lord,  that  cayuse  of  yours  can  shore 
kick!  Was  you  tickling  it?  They  do  go  off  like 
that  some  times.  Any  of  your  nose  coming  out  the 
back  of  your  head  yet?  But  to  reply  to  your  touch 
ing  inquiry,  I'll  say  that  the  psalm  might  work  in 
handy  after  while,  that's  all.  If  you'll  only  tell 
me,  I'll  see  that  it  is  sung  over  your  grave.  But, 
honest,  how  did  you  get  that  face?  " 

"  That'll  just  about  do  for  yu !  "  cried  the  cow 
boy,  angrily.  "  An'  sit  still,  yu !  "  he  added. 

"  Say,  bub,"  confidentially  said  Shields,  "  my 
stomach  itches  like  blazes.  Can't  I  scratch  it,  just 
once?" 

"  No !  Think  I'm  a  fool  I  "  yelled  Tex,  his  fin* 
ger  tightening  on  the  trigger.  "  Yu  sit  still, 
d n  yu !  " 

"  Well,  I  only  wanted  to  see  just  how  much  of 
a  fool  you  really  are,"  grinned  the  sheriff  exasperat- 
ingly.  "  Judging  from  your  present  position  I  must 
say  that  I  thought  you  didn't  have  any  sense  at  all, 

189 


The   Orphan 


but  now  I  reckon  you've  got  a  few  brains  after  all. 
But  suppose  you  scratch  it  for  me,  hey?  Just  rub 
it  easy  like  with  your  left  paw." 

Tex  swore  luridly,  too  tense  to  realize  what  a 
fool  the  sheriff  was  making  of  him.  He  could  think 
of  only  one  thing  at  a  time,  and  he  was  thinking 
very  hard  about  the  sheriff's  hands. 

"  Tut,  tut,  don't  take  it  so  hard/'  jeered  the 
sheriff,  smiling  pleasantly.  "  Now  that  I  know  that 
you  are  some  rational,  suppose  you  tell  me  the  joke? 
What's  the  secret?  Who  skinned  his  shin?  What 
in  thunder  is  all  this  artillery  saluting  me  for?" 

"  Since  yu  want  to  know,  I'll  tell  yu,  all  right," 
replied  Tex.  "  Why  are  yu  an'  Th'  Orphant  so 
d d  thick?  Don't  be  all  day  about  it?  " 

"  You  d d  excuse!"  responded  the  sheriff. 

"  You  mere  accident !  As  the  poet  said,  it's  none 
of  your  business!  Catch  that?" 

"  Yes,  I  caught  it,"  retorted  Tex.  "  I  reckon 

we  needs  a  new  sheriff,  an'  d d  soon,  too,"  he 

added  venomously. 

"  Well,  people  don't  always  get  what  they 
need,"  replied  Shields  easily.  "  If  they  did,  you 
would  get  yours  right  now,  and  good  and  hard, 
too,"  he  explained,  making  ready  to  put  up  the 

190 


A   Voice  from  the   Gallery 


hardest  fight  of  his  life.  Three  men  had  him  cov 
ered,  and  he  knew  they  would  all  shoot  if  he  made 
a  move,  for  they  had  placed  themselves  in  a  des 
perate  situation  and  could  not  back  out  now.  He 
knew  that  never  before  had  he  been  in  so  tight  a 
hole,  but  he  trusted  to  luck  and  his  own  quickness 
to  crawl  out  with  a  whole  skin.  If  he  was  killed, 
he  would  have  company  across  the  Great  Divide; 
of  that  he  was  certain. 

"  I  reckon  I'll  take  yore  guns  for  a  while,  just 
to  be  doin'  somethin',"  Tex  said  as  he  advanced  a 
step.  "  Mebby  that  itch  will  go  away  then." 

"  I  reckon  you'll  be  a  d n  sight  wiser  if  you 

don't  force  matters,  for  they  are  purty  well  forced 
now,"  Shields  replied.  "  No  man  gets  my  guns 
butts  first  without  getting  all  mussed  up  inside. 
You'll  certainly  be  doing  something  if  you  try  it." 

"  Well,  then,"  compromised  Tex,  "  answer  my 
question !  " 

"  And  no  man  gets  an  answer  to  a  question  like 
that  in  words,"  the  sheriff  continued,  as  if  there 
had  been  no  interruption.  "  But  I'll  give  you  and 
your  white-faced  bums  a  chance  for  your  lives — 
and  I  don't  wonder  The  Orphan  shot  up  Jimmy, 
neither.  Put  up  your  wobbling  guns  and  get  out 

191 


The  Orphan 


of  this  country  as  fast  as  God  will  let  you !  If  you 
ever  come  back  I'll  fill  you  plumb  full  of  lead! 
It's  your  move,  Lovely  Face,  and  the  quicker  you 
do  it  the  better  it'll  be  for  your  health." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  about  that,"  replied  Tex 
with  a  leer  and  swagger.  "  To  a  man  up  a  tree 
it  looks  like  yu  are  up  agin  a  buzz  saw  this  time." 

"  To  a  man  on  the  ground  it  looks  like  your  tin 
buzz  saw  has  hit  the  hardest  knot  it  ever  struck, 
and  you'll  feel  the  jar  purty  soon,  too,"  Shields 
countered,  his  hazel  eyes  beginning  to  grow  red. 
"  You  put  up  that  gun  and  scoot  before  I  blow 
your  d d  head  off  !  " 

"  I'll  give  yu  'til  I  counts  three  to  answer  my 
question,"  Tex  said,  ignoring  the  advice.  "  One !  " 

"  The  less  you  count  the  longer  you'll  live," 
said  Shields,  gripping  his  horse  with  his  knees  in 
readiness  to  jump  it  sideways. 

"Two!" 

"  Afternoon,  gents,"  said  a  pleasant  voice  up 
above  them,  and  all  jumped  and  looked  up.  As 
they  did  so  Shields  jerked  his  guns  loose  and 
laughed  softly:  "That  itch  has  plumb  gone 
away,"  he  said.  "  It's  a  new  deal,"  he  exulted,  his 
face  wreathed  in  grins. 

192 


The  less  you  count  the  longer  you'll  live! '  said  Shields." 

(Seepage  192.) 


CHAPTER   XII 

A   NEW   DEAL  ALL   AROUND 

ON  the  edge  of  the  bank,  thirty  feet  above 
them,  a  man  squatted  on  his  heels,  his 
forearms  resting  easily  on  his  knees.  In 
each  hand  was  a  long-barreled  Colt,  held  in  a  man 
ner  oppressively  businesslike.  One  of  the  guns  was 
leveled  at  the  stomach  of  the  man  who  guarded 
Bill,  and  who  still  held  the  rope;  the  other  covered 
the  man  who  had  baited  the  sheriff.  Shields  took 
care  of  the  remaining  two.  One  of  the  newcom 
er's  eyes  was  half  closed,  squinting  to  keep  out  the 
smoke  which  curled  up  from  the  cigarette  which 
protruded  jauntily  from  a  corner  of  his  mouth.  If 
anything  was  needed  to  strengthen  the  air  of  pert- 
ness  of  the  man  above  it  was  supplied  by  his  som 
brero,  which  sat  rakishly  over  one  ear.  A  quizzi 
cal  grin  flickered  across  his  face  and  the  cigarette 
bobbed  recklessly  when  he  laughed. 

"  Was  you  counting?  "  he  asked  of  Tex  in  anx- 

193 


The   Orphan 


ious  inquiry.     "  And  for  God's  sake,  who  stepped 
on  your  face?  " 

Tex  made  no  reply,  for  his  astonishment  at  the 
interruption  had  given  way  to  the  iron  hand  of 
fear  which  gripped  him  almost  to  suffocation.  In 
the  space  of  one  breath  he  had  been  hurled  from 
the  mastery  to  defeat;  from  a  good  fighting  chance, 
with  all  the  odds  on  his  side,  to  what  he  believed 
to  be  certain  death,  for  to  move  was  to  die.  Had 
it  been  anyone  but  The  Orphan  who  had  turned  the 
scale  he  would  have  hazarded  a  shot  and  trusted 
to  luck,  for  his  gun  was  in  his  hand;  but  The 
Orphan's  gunplay  was  as  swift  as  light  and  never 
missed  at  that  distance,  and  The  Orphan's  reputa 
tion  was  a  host  in  itself.  He  had  threatened  the 
sheriff  with  death,  he  had  used  Bill  worse  than  he 
would  have  used  a  dog,  and  now  his  cup  of  bitter 
ness  was  full  to  overflowing.  Above  him  a  pair  of 
cruel  gray  eyes  looked  over  a  sight  into  his  very 
soul  and  a  malevolent  grin  played  about  the  thin, 
straight  lips  of  the  man  who  had  killed  Jimmy, 
who  had  led  his  five  friends  to  an  awful  death,  and 
who  had  instilled  terror  night  after  night  into  the 
hearts  of  seven  good  men.  His  mind  leaped  back 
to  a  day  ten  years  before,  and  what  he  saw  caused 

194 


A  New  Deal  All  Around 


his  face  to  blanch.  Ten  years  of  immunity,  but  at 
last  he  was  to  pay  for  his  crime.  Before  him 
stood  the  son  of  the  man  he  had  been  foremost  in 
hanging,  before  him  stood  the  man  he  had  cruelly 
wronged.  His  nerve  left  him  and  he  stood  a 
broken,  trembling  coward,  a  living  lie  to  the  occu 
pation  he  had  made  his  own,  an  insult  to  his  dress 
and  his  companions.  Had  he  by  some  miracle 
been  given  the  drop  he  could  not  have  pulled  the 
trigger.  He  now  had  no  hope  for  mercy  where  he 
had  denied  it.  He  had  played  a  good  hand,  but  he 
had  made  no  allowance  for  the  joker,  and  no  blame 
to  him. 

No  sooner  had  The  Orphan  spoken  and  the 
sheriff  discovered  that  he  had  things  safely  in  his 
hands,  than  Shields  had  leaped  to  the  ground  and 
quickly  disarmed  his  opponents,  tossing  the  cap 
tured  weapons  to  the  top  of  the  bank  near  the  out 
law.  Then  he  folded  his  arms  and  waited,  laugh 
ing  silently  all  the  while. 

As  soon  as  Shields  had  disposed  of  the  last  gun, 
The  Orphan  gave  his  whole  attention  to  the  man 
who  was  guarding  Bill,  and  that  person  changed 
the  course  of  his  hand  just  in  time. 

"  No,  I  wouldn't  try  to  use  that  gun,  neither,  if 

195 


The   Orphan 


I  was  you,"  The  Orphan  said,  still  smiling.  "  You 
can  just  toss  it  up  on  the  bank  over  your  head — 
that's  right.  Now  drop  that  rope — I'm  surprised 
that  you  didn't  do  it  before.  When  you  get  Bill 
all  untangled  from  those  fixings  come  right  around 
here,  where  I  can  see  how  nice  you  all  look  in  a 
bunch.  It'll  take  you  one  whole  minute  to  get  out 
of  sight  around  that  turn,  so  I  wouldn't  try  any 
running." 

The  Orphan  was  ignorant  of  the  condition  of 
Bill's  face,  since  he  had  only  seen  the  driver's  back 
as  he  had  crawled  to  the  edge  of  the  bank,  and 
now  the  bend  in  the  opposite  wall  just  hid  Bill  from 
his  sight.  So  he  gave  no  great  attention  to  the 
driver,  but  turned  to  the  sheriff  and  laughed. 

"  I  knew  that  you  would  pull  through,  Sheriff," 
he  said,  "  but  I  couldn't  help  having  a  surprise 
party;  I'm  a  whole  lot  fond  of  surprise  parties,  you 
know.  And  it's  shore  been  a  howling  success,  all 
right." 

"  You  have  a  very  pleasant  way  of  making  your 
self  useful,"  Shields  replied.  "  From  the  holes 
you've  pulled  me  out  of  within  the  past  six  weeks 
you  must  have  a  poor  impression  of  me.  But  see 
ing  that  you  have  reason  to  laugh  at  me,  I  accept 

196 


A  New  Deal  All  Around 


your  apology  and  bid  you  welcome.  It's  all 
yours."  Then  he  glanced  quickly  up  the  trail  and 
his  face  went  red  with  anger.  u  Hell!  "  he  cried 
in  amazement. 

The  Orphan  looked  in  the  direction  indicated 
and  he  leaped  to  his  feet  in  sudden  anger  at  what 
he  saw.  A  man,  followed  by  a  cowboy,  staggered 
and  stumbled  drunkenly  along  the  trail  toward 
them,  his  face  a  mass  of  cuts  and  bruises  and  blood. 
His  hair  was  matted  with  blood  and  dirt,  and  a 
red  ring  showed  around  his  neck.  His  hands 
opened  and  shut  convulsively  and  he  made  straight 
as  he  could  for  Tex,  who  shrank  back  involuntarily. 

"My  God!  It's  Bill!"  cried  The  Orphan, 
hardly  able  to  believe  his  eyes. 

"  You're  the  cur  /  want!  "  Bill  muttered  brok 
enly  to  Tex,  straightening  up  and  becoming  rapidly 
steadier  under  the  stimulus  of  his  rage.  "  You're 

the /  want,  d n  you !  "  he  repeated  as  he 

slowly  advanced.  "It's  my  turn  now,  you  cur! 
Lynch  me,  would  you?  Lynch  me,  eh?  Tried  to 
hit  me  when  I  was  tied,  eh?  Sicked  your  dogs  on 

me,  eh?  Keep  still,  d n  you — you  can't  get 

away!  "  he  cried  as  Tex  moved  backward. 

"  Stand  to  it  like  a  man,  or  I'll  blow  your  head 
197 


The   Orphan 


off  !  "  cried  The  Orphan  from  his  perch.  "  Go  on, 
Bill!" 

"  You  said  you  wanted  me,  didn't  you?  Do 
you  still  want  me?"  he  asked,  not  hearing  The 
Orphan's  words.  "  Are  you  still  curious?"  he 
asked,  backing  Tex  into  a  corner. 

"  Hash  him  up,  Bill !  "  cried  the  man  above, 
and  then,  "  Hey,  wait  a  minute — I  want  to  see 
this,"  he  added  as  he  slid  down  the  bank.  u  Go 
ahead  with  the  slaughter — push  his  head  off !  " 

Bill's  one  hundred  and  eighty  pounds  of  muscle 
and  rage  suddenly  hurled  itself  forward  behind  a 
huge  fist  and  Tex  hit  the  bank  and  careened  into 
the  dust  of  the  trail,  unconscious  before  he  had 
moved. 

"  I  told  you  you  wasn't  man  enough  to  play  a 
lone  hand!  "  yelled  the  driver  as  he  leaped  after 
his  victim.  But  he  was  stopped  by  the  sheriff,  who 
sprang  forward  and  deflected  him  from  his  course. 

"That's  enough — no  killing!"  Shields  cried, 
regaining  his  balance  and  swiftly  interposing  him 
self  between  the  driver  and  Tex. 

Bill  didn't  hear  him,  for  he  had  just  caught  sight 
of  the  man  who  had  told  him  to  warble,  and  he 
lost  no  time  in  getting  to  him.  A  few  quick  blows 

198 


A  New  Deal  All  Around 


and  the  enraged  driver  left  his  second  victim  face 
down  in  the  dirt  and  passed  on  to  the  man  who  had 
held  the  rope. 

"  Hurrah  for  Bill!  "  yelled  The  Orphan,  hop 
ping  first  on  one  foot  and  then  on  the  other  in  his 
joy.  "Set  'em  up  in  the  other  alley!  I  didn't 
know  you  had  it  in  you,  Bill!  Good  boy!  "  he 
shouted  as  Bill  clinched  with  the  third  cowboy. 
"  Oh,  that  was  a  beauty!  Right  on  the  nose — oh, 
what  a  whopper  to  get  on  the  jaw!  Whoop  her 
up !  Fine,  fine !  "  he  laughed  as  Bill  dropped  his 
man.  "  *  And  subsequent  proceedings  interested 
him  no  more!  '  Next!  "  he  cried  as  Bill  wheeled 
on  the  last  of  the  group.  "  Eat  him  up,  Bill ! — 
that's  the  way!  Just  above  the  belt  for  his — 
Good !  All  down !  "  he  yelled  madly  as  Bill,  draw 
ing  his  arm  back  from  the  stomach  of  the  falling 
puncher,  sent  a  swift  uppercut  hissing  to  the  jaw. 
"You  lifted  him  five  feet,  Bill,"  The  Orphan 
exulted  as  Bill  wheeled  for  more  worlds  to  conquer. 

"Where's  the  rest  of  the  gang?"  savagely 
yelled  the  driver,  looking  twice  at  The  Orphan 
before  he  was  sure  of  his  identity.  "  Where's  the 
rest  of  'em?"  he  shouted  again,  running  around 
the  bend  in  hot  search.  "  Come  out  and  fight,  you 

199 


The   Orphan 


cowards!  "  they  heard  him  cry,  and  straightway 
the  outlaw  and  the  guardian  of  the  law  clung  to 
each  other  for  support  as  they  cried  with  joy. 

As  Bill  hurried  back  to  the  field  of  carnage  one 
of  his  victims  was  mechanically  striving  to  gain  his 
hands  and  knees,  to  go  down  in  a  quivering  heap 
by  a  blow  from  the  insane  victor.  As  Bill  drew 
back  his  foot  to  finish  his  work,  Shields  broke  from 
his  companion  and  leaped  forward  just  in  time  to 

hurl  Bill  back  several  steps.  "  D n  you !  "  he 

cried,  standing  over  the  prostrate  figure,  "  If  you 
hit  another  man  while  he's  down  I'll  trim  you 
right !  Cool  down  and  get  some  sense  before  I 
punch  it  into  you !  " 

The  Orphan,  leaning  limply  against  the  bank 
of  the  defile,  was  making  foolish  motions  with  his 
hands,  which  still  held  the  Colts,  and  was  bab 
bling  idiotically,  tears  of  laughter  streaming  down 
his  face  and  dripping  from  his  chin.  His  eyes 
were  closed  and  he  was  bent  over,  rocking  to  and 
fro  against  the  wall. 

"Oh,  Lord!"  he  sobbed  senselessly.  "  Oh, 
Lord,  oh,  Lord !  Let  me  die  in  peace !  Take  him 
away,  take  him  away !  Let  me  die  in  peace !  " 

"  I'm  a  fine  sight  to  hit  Sagetown,  ain't  I  ?  " 
200 


A  New  Deal  All  Around 


yelled  Bill,  keeping  keen  watch  on  the  four  pros 
trate  punchers.  "They'll  think  I  was  licked! 
They'll  point  to  my  face  and  head  and  swear  that 
some  papoose  kicked  the  stuffing  outen  me !  That's 
what  they'll  do!  But  I'll  show  them,  all  right! 
I'll  just  take  my  game  with  me  and  prove  that  I 
am  the  best  man,  that's  what  I'll  do !  I'll  pile  'em 
in  the  coach  and  lug  'em  with  me!  "  grabbing,  as 
he  finished,  one  of  the  men  by  the  foot  and  drag 
ging  him  toward  the  stage.  It  took  The  Orphan 
and  Shields  several  strenuous  minutes  to  dissuade 
him  from  his  purpose.  Shields  placed  his  fingers 
on  the  bones  of  Bill's  hand  in  a  peculiar  grip,  and 
the  driver  loosened  his  hold  without  loss  of  time. 

"  You  go  back  to  town  and  get  fixed  up,"  or 
dered  the  sheriff.  "  I'll  take  your  team  out  of 
this  and  turn  them  around,  and  then  come  back 
for  you.  Charley  can  make  the  trip  if  you  can't. 
I  would  do  it  myself,  only  I've  got  to  tell  Sneed 
that  he's  shy  four  more  men." 

"  I'll  turn  'em  around  myself — I  ain't  hurt," 
asserted  Bill  with  decision.  "  And  when  I  get 
patched  up  I'll  make  the  trip,  Pop  Westley  or  no 
Pop  Westley.  And  I'll  lick  the  whole  blamed 
town,  too,  if  they  get  fresh  about  my  face!  I'm  a 

201 


Th e   Orphan 


fighter  from  Fightersville,  I  am!  I'm  a  man- 
eating  bad-man,  I  am !  I  can  lick  anything  that 
ever  walked  on  hind  legs,  I  can!  "  and  he  glared 
as  if  anxious  to  prove  his  words. 

After  the  cowboys  regained  consciousness  and 
got  so  they  could  stand,  the  sheriff  lined  them  up 
with  their  backs  to  the  wall  and  gave  them  the 
guns  which  The  Orphan  had  obtained  for  him. 
The  outlaw  held  them  covered  while  the  sheriff 
told  them  what  they  were,  and  he  wound  up  his 
lecture  with  instructions  and  a  warning. 

"  Get  out  of  this  country  and  don't  never  come 
back!  "  he  told  them.  "  I  don't  care  where  you 
go,  so  long  as  you  go  right  now.  If  you  even 
show  your  faces  in  these  parts  again  I'll  shoot  first 
and  talk  after." 

"  Same  here !  "  endorsed  The  Orphan,  frowning 
down  his  desire  to  laugh  at  the  wrecks  in  front 
of  him. 

"  I'll  kill  you  next  time !  "  shouted  Bill,  prancing 
uneasily. 

"  The  cayuses  are  yours,"  continued  the  sheriff. 
"  I'll  settle  with  Sneed  if  he  has  the  gall  to  ask 
about  them.  Now  git !  " 

Tex  stared  first  at  the  sheriff  and  then  at  The 
202 


A  New  Deal  All  Around 


Orphan  and  Bill  as  if  doubting  his  ears.  He  was 
ten  years  nearer  the  grave  than  he  had  been  before 
The  Orphan  had  interrupted  his  counting.  In  less 
than  half  an  hour  he  had  gone  through  hell,  and 
now  he  suddenly  burst  into  tears  from  the  reaction 
and  staggered  to  his  horse,  which  he  finally  man 
aged  to  mount,  a  nervous  wreck.  "  Oh,  God!  " 
he  moaned,  "  Oh,  God!" 

The  others  stared  at  him  in  amazement  until  he 
had  turned  the  bend,  and  then  his  companions 
slowly  followed  him  and  were  lost  to  sight. 

"  D n  near  dead  from  fright !  "  ejaculated 

the  sheriff.  "  I  never  saw  anybody  go  to  pieces 
so  bad!" 

"  He  shore  lost'  his  nerve  all  right,  all  right," 
responded  The  Orphan.  Then  he  turned  to  where 
Bill  stood  looking  after  them:  "Bill,  you're  all 
right — you  can  fight  like  h — 1 !  " 

Bill  slowly  turned  and  grinned  through  the 
blood:  "Oh,  that  wasn't  nothing — you  should 
oughter  see  me  when  I  get  real  mad!  " 


Two  men  rode  side  by  side  after  a  lurching 
coach  on  their  way  toward  the  Limping  Water, 
both  buried  in  thought  at  what  the  driver  had 

203 


The   Orphan 


told  them.  As  they  emerged  from  the  defile  and 
left  the  Backbone  behind,  the  elder  looked  keenly, 
almost  affectionately,  at  his  companion  and  placed 
a  kindly  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  man  who  had 
turned  the  balance,  breaking  the  long  silence. 

"  Son,  why  don't  you  get  a  job  punching  cows, 

or  something,  and  quit  your  d d  foolishness?  " 

he  bluntly  asked. 

The  younger  man  thought  for  a  space,  and  a 
woman's  words  directed  his  reply: 

"  I've  thought  of  that,  and  I'd  like  to  do  it,"  he 
said  earnestly.  "  But,  pshaw,  who  will  give  me  a 
try  in  this  country?  "  he  asked  bitterly.  Then  he 
added  softly:  "  And  I  won't  leave  these  parts,  not 


now." 


"  You  won't  have  to  leave  the  country,"  replied 
the  sheriff.  "  Why  not  try  Blake,  of  the  Star  C  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  Blake  is  a  shore  square  man,  and  he's 
a  good  friend  of  mine,  too." 

"  Yes,  I  reckon  he  is  square,"  replied  The 
Orphan.  "  But  he  won't  take  no  stock  in  me,  not 
a  bit." 

"  Tell  him  that  you're  a  friend  of  mine,  and 
that  I  sent  you  to  punch  for  him,  and  see,"  re 
sponded  Shields,  examining  his  cinch. 

204 


A  New  Deal  All  Around 


"  Do  you  mean  that,  Sheriff?  "  the  other  cried 
in  surprise. 

"  Hell,  yes!  "  answered  Shields  gruffly.  "  I'll 
give  you  a  note  to  him,  and  if  you  watch  your 
business  you'll  be  his  right-hand  man  in  a  month. 
I  ain't  making  any  mistake." 

"By  God,  I'll  do  it!"  cried  the  outlaw. 
"  You're  all  right,  Sheriff !  " 

"Well,  I  don't  know  about  that,"  replied 
Shields,  grinning  broadly.  "  Mebby  I  just  can't 
see  the  use  of  us  shooting  each  other  up,  and  that 
is  what  it  will  come  to  if  things  go  on  as  they  are, 
you  know.  I'd  a  blamed  sight  rather  have  you 
behaving  yourself  with  Blake  than  bothering  me 
with  ybur  fool  nonsense  and  raising  the  devil  all 
the  time.  Why,  it's  got  so  that  every  place  I  go 
I  sort  of  looks  for  flower  pots !  " 

The  Orphan  laughed :  "  I  shore  had  a  fine  time 
that  night!  " 

When  half  way  to  the  Limping  Water  the 
sheriff  said  good-by  to  Bill  and  wheeled,  facing  in 
the  direction  of  the  Cross  Bar-8. 

"  Orphan,  you  wait  for  me  at  the  ford,"  he 
said.  "  I'm  going  up  to  break  the  news  to  Sneed, 
and  I'll  get  paper  and  pencil  while  I'm  there,  and 

205 


T h e   Orphan 


write  a  note  to  Blake.  I'll  get  back  as  quick  as 
I  can — so  long." 

"  So  long,  and  good  luck,"  replied  The  Orphan, 
heartily  shaking  hands  with  his  new  friend. 

Shields  loped  away  and  arrived  at  the  ranch  as 
Sneed  was  carrying  water  to  the  cook  shack. 

"  Hullo,  Sneed!  Playing  cook?  "  he  said,  pull 
ing  in  to  a  stop. 

"  I'll  play  on  the  cook  if  I  ever  get  my  hands  on 
him,"  replied  Sneed,  setting  the  pail  down.  "  Well, 
what's  new?  Seen  Tex  and  the  other  three?  I'll 
play  on  them,  too,  when  they  gets  home!  Off 
playing  hookey  from  work  when  we  all  of  us  aches 
from  double  shifts — oh,  just  wait  till  I  sees  'em 
sneaking  in  to  bed!  Just  wait!  " 

"  You  ought  to  give  'em  all  a  good  thrashing, 
they  need  it,"  replied  the  sheriff,  and  then  he 
asked:  "Got  any  paper,  and  a  pencil?"  He 
wanted  his  needs  supplied  before  he  broke  the 
news,  for  then  he  might  not  get  them. 

"  Shore  as  you  live  I  have,"  answered  the  fore 
man,  picking  up  the  pail  and  starting  toward  the 
bunkhouse.  "  Come  in  and  wet  the  dust — it's  hot 
out  here." 

"  Let  me  have  the  paper  first — I  want  to  scrawl 
206 


A  New  Deal  All  Around 


a  note  before  I  forget  about  it,"  the  sheriff  re 
sponded  as  he  seated  himself  on  a  bunk  and  looked 
critically  about  him  at  the  bullet-riddled  walls  and 
pictures. 

Sneed  handed  him  an  ink  bottle  and  placed  a 
piece  of  wrapping  paper  and  a  corroded  pen  on 
the  table. 

"  That  paper  ain't  for  love  letters,  the  ink  is 
mud,  and  the  pen's  a  brush,  but  I  reckon  you  can 
make  tracks,  all  right,"  the  host  remarked  as  he 
pushed  a  bench  up  to  the  table  for  his  guest.  "  And 
if  them  punchers  don't  make  tracks  for  home  purty 
lively,  I'll  salt  their  hides  and  peg  'em  on  the  wall 
to  cure,"  he  grumbled,  rummaging  for  a  bottle 
and  cup.  When  he  placed  the  tin  cup  on  the  table 
he  grinned  foolishly,  for  it  was  plugged  with  a 
cork.  "  D d  outlaw !  "  he  grunted. 

"  There,"  remarked  the  sheriff,  fanning  the  note 
in  the  air.  "  That's  done,  if  it'll  ever  dry." 

"  Blow  on  it,"  suggested  Sneed,  and  then  smiled. 
"  Here,  wait  a  minute,"  he  said,  stepping  to  the 
door,  where  he  scooped  up  a  handful  of  sand. 
"  Throw  this  on  it — it  can't  get  no  muddier, 
anyhow." 

Shields  carefully  folded  the  missive  and  tucked 
207 


The   Orphan 


it  in  his  hip  pocket,  and  then  he  looked  up  at  the 
foreman. 

"  Sneed,"  he  slowly  began,  "  your  punchers  ain't 
never  coming  back." 

"  What !  "  yelled  the  foreman,  leaping  to  his 
feet,  and  having  visions  of  his  men  being  cut  up 
by  outlaws  and  Indians. 

"  Nope,"  replied  Shields  with  an  air  of  finality. 
"  Bill  Howland  gave  them  the  most  awful  beating 
up  that  I  ever  saw  men  get,  the  whole  four  of 
them,  too!  When  he  got  through  with  them  I 
took  a  hand  and  ordered  them  to  get  out  of  the 
country,  and  I  told  them  that  if  they  ever  came 
back  I'd  shoot  on  sight,  and  I  will." 

Sneed's  rage  was  pathetic,  and  was  not  induced 
by  the  beating  his  men  had  received,  nor  by  the 
sheriff's  orders,  but  because  it  left  him  only  three 
men  to  work  a  ranch  which  needed  twelve.  As 
he  listened  to  the  sheriff's  story  he  paced  back  and 
forth  in  the  small  room  and  swore  luridly,  kicking 
at  everything  in  sight,  except  the  sheriff.  Then  he 
cooled  down,  spread  his  feet  far  apart  and  stared 
at  Shields. 

"  Why  didn't  you  kill  'em,  the  d d  fools?  " 

he  cried.  "  That's  what  they  deserved !  "  Then 

208 


A  New  Deal  All  Around 


he  paused.  "  But  what  am  I  going  to  do?  "  he 
asked.  "  Where'll  I  get  men,  and  what'll  I  do  'til 
I  do  get  'em?" 

"  I'll  send  Charley  and  half  a  dozen  of  the  boys 
out  from  town  to  stay  with  you  'til  you  get  some 
others,"  replied  the  sheriff,  walking  toward  the 
door.  "  And  you  might  tell  the  three  that  are  left 
that  I'll  kill  the  next  man  who  tries  that  kind  of 
work  in  this  country.  I'm  getting  good  and  tired 
of  it.  So  long." 

Sneed  didn't  hear  him,  but  sat  with  his  head  in 
his  hands  for  several  minutes  after  the  sheriff  had 
gone,  swearing  fluently. 

"Orphan  h — 1!"  he  yelled  as  he  picked  up 
the  water  pail  and  stamped  to  the  cook  shack. 


209 


CHAPTER    XIII 

THE    STAR    C   GIVES    WELCOME 

THE  Limping  Water,  within  a  mile  after  it 
passed  Ford's  Station,  turned  abruptly 
and  flowed  almost  due  west  for  thirty 
miles,  where  it  again  proceeded  southward.  At 
the  second  bend  stood  the  ranch  houses  and  corrals 
of  the  Star  C,  in  a  country  rich  in  grass  and  water. 
Its  cows  numbered  far  into  the  thousands  and  its 
horses  were  the  best  for  miles  around,  while  the 
whole  ranch  had  an  air  of  opulence  and  plenty. 
Its  ranch  house  was  a  curiosity,  for  even  now  there 
were  lace  curtains  in  some  of  the  windows,  badly 
torn  and  soiled,  but  still  lace  curtains;  and  on  the 
floors  of  several  rooms  were  thick  carpets,  now 
covered  with  dust  and  riding  paraphernalia.  Oddly 
shaped  and  badly  scratched  chairs  were  piled  high 
with  accumulated  trash,  and  the  few  gilt-framed 
paintings  which  graced  the  walls  were  hanging 
awry  and  were  torn  and  scratched.  At  one  time 

210 


The  Star  C  Gives  Welcome 


an  Eastern  woman  had  tried  to  live  there,  but  that 
was  when  the  owner  of  the  ranch  and  his  wife  had 
been  enthusiasts.  New  York  regained  and  kept 
its  own,  and  they  now  would  rather  receive  quar 
terly  reports  by  mail  than  daily  reports  in  person. 
The  foreman  and  his  wolf  hounds  reigned  supreme, 
not  at  all  bothered  by  the  stiff  furniture  and  lace 
curtains,  because  he  would  rather  be  comfortable 
than  stylish,  and  so  lived  in  two  rooms  which  he 
had  fitted  up  to  his  ideas.  Carpets  and  two-inch 
spurs  cause  profanity  and  ravelings,  and  as  for  pic 
tures,  they  have  a  most  annoying  way  of  tilting 
when  one  hangs  a  six-shooter  on  one  corner  of  the 
frame,  and  they  are  so  inviting  that  one  is  con 
stantly  forgetting.  So  the  unstable  pictures,  the 
dress-parade  chairs,  bothersome  curtains  and 
clutching  carpets  were  left  under  the  dust. 

The  Star  C,  being  in  a  part  of  the  country  little 
traversed  and  crossed  by  no  trails,  was  removed 
from  the  zone  of  The  Orphan's  activities  and  had 
no  cause  for  animosity,  save  that  induced  by  his 
reputation.  Several  of  its  punchers  had  seen  him, 
and  all  were  well  versed  in  his  exploits,  for  fre 
quently  Ford's  Station  shared  its  hospitality  with 
one  or  more  of  them ;  and  in  Ford's  Station  at  that 

211 


The   Orphan 


time  The  Orphan  was  the  chief  topic  of  conversa 
tion  and  the  bone  of  contention.  But  the  foreman 
of  the  Star  C  would  not  know  him  if  he  should 
see  him,  unless  by  intuition. 

Blake  was  a  man  much  after  the  pattern  of 
Shields  in  his  ideas,  and  the  two  were  warm  friends 
and  had  roughed  it  together  when  Ford's  Station 
had  only  been  an  adobe  hut.  Their  affection  for 
each  other  was  of  the  stern,  silent  kind,  which  sel 
dom  betrayed  itself  directly  in  words,  and  they 
could  ride  together  for  hours  in  an  understanding 
silence  and  never  weary  of  the  companionship ;  and 
when  need  was,  deeds  spoke  for  them.  The  Cross 
Bar-8  would  have  had  more  than  Ford's  Station 
to  fight  if  it  had  declared  war  on  the  sheriff,  which 
the  Cross  Bar-8  knew.  The  three  cleverest  manip 
ulators  of  weapons  in  that  section,  in  the  order  of 
their  merit,  were  The  Orphan,  Shields  and  Blake, 
which  also  the  Cross  Bar-8  knew. 

The  foreman  of  the  Star  C  rode  at  a  walk 
toward  a  distant  point  of  his  dominions  and  cogi 
tated  as  to  whether  he  could  ride  over  to  Ford's 
Station  that  night  to  see  the  sheriff.  It  was  a 
matter  of  sixty  miles  for  the  round  trip,  but  it 
might  have  been  sixty  blocks,  so  far  as  the  distance 

212 


The  Star  C  Gives  Welcome 


troubled  him.  He  had  just  decided  to  make  the 
trip  and  to  spend  a  pleasant  hour  with  his  friend, 
and  drink  some  of  the  delicious  coffee  which  Mrs. 
Shields  always  made  for  him  and  eat  one  of  her 
prize  pies,  or  some  of  her  light  ginger  bread,  when 
he  descried  a  horseman  coming  toward  him  at  a 
lope. 

The  newcomer  was  a  stranger  to  Blake  and 
appeared  to  be  a  young  man,  which  was  of  no 
consequence.  But  the  thing  which  attracted  more 
than  a  casual  glance  from  the  foreman  was  a  cer 
tain  jaunty,  reckless  air  about  the  man  which  spoke 
well  for  the  condition  of  his  nerves  and  liver. 

The  stranger  approached  to  within  a  rod  of 
Blake  before  he  spoke,  and  then  he  slowed  down 
and  nodded,  but  with  wide-eyed  alertness. 

"  Howdy,"  he  said.  "  Are  you  the  foreman  of 
the  Star  C?" 

"  Howdy.     I  am,"  replied  the  foreman. 

"  Then  I  reckon  this  is  yours,"  said  the  stranger, 
holding  out  a  bit  of  straw-colored  paper. 

The  foreman  took  it  and  slowly  read  it.  When 
he  had  finished  reading  he  turned  it  over  to  see 
if  there  was  anything  on  the  back,  and  then  stuck 
it  in  his  pocket  and  looked  up  casually. 

213 


The   Orphan 


"Are  you  The  Orphan?"  he  asked,  with  no 
more  interest  than  he  would  have  displayed  if  he 
had  asked  about  the  weather. 

"  Yes,"  replied  The  Orphan,  nonchalantly  roll 
ing  another  cigarette. 

"  How  is  the  sheriff?  "  Blake  asked. 

"  Shore  well  enough,  but  a  little  mad  about  the 
Cross  Bar-8,"  answered  the  other  as  he  inhaled 
deeply  and  with  much  satisfaction.  "  He  said 
there  was  some  good  coffee  waiting  for  you  to-night 
if  you  wanted  it,"  he  added. 

"Did  he?"  asked  Blake,  grinning  his  delight. 

"  Yes,  and  some — apricot  pie,"  added  The 
Orphan  wistfully. 

Blake  laughed:  "  Well,  I  reckon  I've  got  some 
business  over  in  town  to-night,  so  you  keep  on 
going  'til  you  get  to  the  bunk  house.  Tell  Lee 
Lung  to  rustle  the  grub  lively — I'll  be  there  right 
after  you.  Apricot  pie !  "  he  chuckled  as  he  pushed 
on  at  a  lope. 

Jim  Carter  was  washing  for  supper,  being  urged 
to  show  more  speed  by  Bud  Taylor,  when  the  lat 
ter  looked  up  and  saw  The  Orphan  dismount.  His 
mouth  opened  a  trifle,  but  he  continued  his  urging 
without  a  break.  He  had  seen  The  Orphan  at 

214 


The  Or/?'' 


"Are  you  The  Orphan ?"  he 
more  interest  than  he  would  have 
had  asked  about  the  weather. 

"  Yes,"  replied  The  Orphan,  noncha 
ing  another  cigarette. 

"  How  is  the  sheriff?  "  Blake  asked. 

"  Shore  well  enough,  but  a  little  mad  a 
Cross  F  answered  the  other  as  he 

deeply  and  with   much  satisfaction.      u  He         ; 
there  was  some  good  coffee  waiting  for  you  to-n 
if  you  wanted  it,"  he  added. 

"  Did  he?"  asked  Blake,  grinning  his  del 

'Yes,    and    some — apricot    pie,"    added    The 
Orphan  wistfully. 

Blake  laughed :  "  Well,  I  reckon  I've  got 
business  over  in  town  to-night,   so  you  keep  en 
going  'til  you  get  to  the  bunk  house.     Tell 
Lung  to  rustle  the  grub  lively — I'll  be  there  r 
after  you.    Apricot  pie !  "  he  chuckled  as  he  pu 
on  at  a  lope. 

Jim  Carter  was  washing  for  supper,  being  urge  d 

re  speed  by  Bud  Taylor,  when  thf 
ter  '  'id  saw  The  Orphan  dismount.    H  s 

mouth  opened  a  trifle,  but  he  continued  his  ur; 
without  a  break.     He  had  seen  The  Orphan  ;  t 

214 


The  Orphan  gives  Blake  Shields'  note.      (See  page  213.) 


The  Star  C  Gives  Welcome 


Ace  High  the  year  before,  when  the  outlaw  had 
ridden  in  for  a  supply  of  cartridges,  and  he 
instantly  recalled  the  face.  But  Bud  was  not  only 
easy-going,  but  also  very  hungry  at  the  time,  and 
he  didn't  care  if  the  devil  himself  called  as  long 
as  the  devil  respected  the  etiquette  of  the  range. 
Besides,  if  there  was  to  be  trouble  it  would  rest 
more  comfortably  on  a  full  stomach. 

"  Give  me  a  quit-claim  to  that  pan,  yu  coyote, " 
he  said  pleasantly  to  Jim.  "  Yu  ain't  taking  no 
bath!" 

"  Blub — no  I  ain't — blub  blub — but  you  will 
be — blub — if  yu  don't  lemme  alone,"  came  from 
the  pan.  "  Hand  me  that  towel !  " 

"  Don't  wallow  in  it,  yu !  "  admonished  Bud  as 
he  refilled  the  basin.  "  Leave  some  dry  spots  for 
me,  this  time." 

Jim  carefully  hung  the  towel  on  a  peg  in  the 
wall  of  the  house  and  then  noticed  the  stranger, 
who  was  removing  his  saddle. 

"  Howdy,  stranger!  "  he  said  heartily.  "  Just 
in  time  to  feed.  Coax  some  of  that  water  from 
Bud,  but  get  holt  of  the  towel  first,  for  there  won't 
be  none  left  soon." 

The  Orphan  laughed  and  dusted  his  chaps. 
215 


Th e   Orphan 


'Where'll    I    find    Lee    Lung?"    he    asked. 
"  Blake  wants  him  to  rustle  the  grub  lively." 

"  He's  in  the  cook  shack  behind  the  house 
a-doing  it  and  trying  to  sing,"  replied  Jim.  "  He's 
always  trying  to  sing;  it  goes  something  like  this: 
Hop-lee,  low-hop  yum-see,"  he  hummed  in  a 
monotonous  wail  as  he  combed  his  hair  before  a 
broken  bit  of  mirror  stuck  in  a  crack.  "  Hi-dee, 
hee-hee,  chop-chop " 

"  Gimme  that  comb,  yu  heathen  Chinee,"  cried 
Bud,  "  and  don't  make  that  noise." 

"  Anything  else  yu  wants?  "  asked  Jim,  deliber 
ately  putting  the  comb  away  in  the  box. 

"  I  want  to  be  in  Kansas  City  with  a  million 
dollars  and  a  whopper  of  a  thirst,"  replied  Bud  as 
he  filled  the  basin  for  the  stranger.  "  It's  all 
yourn,  stranger.  Grub's  waiting  for  yu  inside  when 
yore  ready." 

"  Do  yu  know  who  that  feller  is?  "  Bud  asked 
in  a  whisper  as  they  made  their  way  to  the  table, 
from  which  came  much  laughter.  "  That's  The 
Orphant,"  he  added. 

uTh'  h— 1  it  is!"  said  Jim.  "Him?  Him 
Th'  Orphant?  Tell  another!  I'm  more  than  six 
years  old,  even  if  yu  ain't." 

216 


The  Star  C  Gives  Welcome 


"That's  straight,  fellers!"  said  Bud  to  the 
assembled  outfit  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  ain't  kidding 
yu  none,  honest.  I  saw  him  up  to  Ace  High  last 
year.  That's  him,  all  right.  Wait  'til  he  comes 
in  and  see !  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  if  he's  Jonah,"  responded 
Jim.  "  Only  I  reckons  you're  plumb  loco,  all  the 
same.  But  I'm  too  hungry  to  care  if  Gabriel 
blows  if  I  can  fill  up  before  these  Oliver  Twists 
eats  it  all  up,"  he  said,  revealing  his  last  reading 
matter. 

"  He  shore  enough  wears  his  gun  plumb  low — 
and  the  holster  is  tied  to  his  chaps,  too,"  muttered 
Jim  as  he  seated  himself  at  the  table.  "  So  would 
I,  too,  if  I  was  him.  Pass  them  murphys,  Hum 
ble,"  he  ordered. 

"  You  has  got  to  bust  that  piebald  pet  what 
you've  been  keeping  around  the  house  to-morrow, 
Humble,"  exulted  the  man  nearest  to  him.  "  And 
it'll  shore  be  a  circus  watching  you  do  it,  too !  " 

The  blankets  which  divided  the  bunk  house  into 
two  rooms  were  pushed  aside  and  The  Orphan 
entered,  carrying  his  saddle  and  bridle,  which  he 
placed  beside  the  others  on  the  floor.  Then  he 
unbuckled  his  belts  and  hung  them,  Colts  and  all, 

217 


The   Orphan 


over  the  pommel,  which  was  etiquette  and  which 
gave  assurance  that  the  guest  was  not  hunting  any 
one.  Then  he  seated  himself  at  the  table  in  a  chair 
which  Humble  pushed  back  for  him.  His  entry 
in  no  degree  caused  a  lull  in  the  conversation. 

"  Well,  you  hasn't  got  no  kick  coming,  has 
you?"  asked  Humble.  "Hey,  Cookie !"  he 
shouted  into  the  dark  gallery  which  led  to  the  cook 
shack.  "  Rustle  in  some  more  fixings  for  another 
place,  and  bring  in  the  slush !  "  Then  he  turned 
to  his  tormentor:  "  You  has  allus  got  something 
to  say  about  my  business,  ain't  you,  hey?  " 

"  Sic  'em,  Humble!  "  said  Silent  Allen.  "  Go 
for  him !  " 

From  the  gallery  came  sounds  of  calamity  and 
then  a  mongrel  dog  shot  out  and  collided  with  the 
table,  glancing  off  it  and  under  the  curtain  in  his 
haste  to  gain  the  outside  world.  A  second  later 
the  cook,  his  face  fiendish,  grasping  a  huge  knife, 
followed  the  dog  out  on  the  plain.  Those  eating 
sprang  to  their  feet  and  streamed  after  the  cook, 
yelling  encouragement  to  their  favorite. 

"  Go  it,  Old  Woman!  "  "  'Ray  for  Cookie!  " 
"  Beat  him  out,  Lightning!  "  and  other  expressions 
met  Blake  as  he  came  up  from  the  corral. 

218 


The  Star  C  Gives  Welcome 


"  Cook  got  'em  again?  "  he  asked,  elbowing  his 
way  into  the  house.  "  I  told  you  to  keep  liquor 
away  from  him." 

"  'Tain't  liquor  this  time;  it's  th'  kioodle,"  re 
plied  Docile  Thomas  as  he  led  the  way  back  to  the 
table.  "  Him  an'  th'  dog  don't  mix  extra  well." 

Blake  swept  aside  the  blanket  and  saw  The 
Orphan  standing  by  the  window  and  laughing. 
Turning,  he  disappeared  into  the  gallery  and  soon 
returned  with  a  tin  plate,  a  steel  knife,  a  tin  cup 
and  the  coffee  pot. 

"  Sit  down — good  Lord,  they  would  let  a  man 
starve,"  he  said,  roughly  clearing  a  place  at  the 
table  for  the  new  arrival.  "  I  don't  know  how 
you  feel,"  he  continued,  "  but  I'm  so  all-fired  hun 
gry  that  I  don't  know  whether  it's  my  back  or 
stomach  that  hurts.  Take  some  beef  and  throw 
those  potatoes  down  this  way.  Here,  have  some 
slush,"  filling  The  Orphan's  cup  with  coffee. 
"  This  ain't  like  the  coffee  the  sheriff  drinks,  but  it 
is  just  a  little  bit  better  than  nothing.  You  see, 
Cook's  all  right,  only  he  can't  cook,  never  could 
and  never  will.  But  he's  a  whole  lot  better  than 
a  sailor  I  once  suffered  under." 

"  What's  the  matter  between  you  and  Light- 
219 


The   Orphan 


ning,  Lee?  "  asked  Bud  as  the  cook  passed  by  the 
table  on  his  way  to  the  shack. 

"Wouldn't  he  drink  yore  slush?  I  allus  said 
some  dogs  was  smart,"  laughed  Jack  Lawson. 

Lee's  smile  was  bland.  "  Scalpee  th'  dlog,"  he 
asserted  as  he  disappeared.  "  No  dlamn  good!  " 
wafted  from  the  gallery. 

"  Say,  Humble,"  said  Silent  Allen  in  an  ag 
grieved  tone,  "  the  beef  will  wag  its  tail  some  night 
if  you  don't  shoot  that  cur !  " 

"That's  right!"  endorsed  Jack.  "I'll  shoot 
him  for  a  dollar,"  he  added  hopefully.  "  The 
boys  will  all  chip  in  to  make  up  the  purse  and  it 
won't  cost  you  a  cent,  not  even  a  cartridge." 

"  Anybody  that  don't  like  that  setter  can 
move,"  responded  Humble  with  decision.  "  He's 
a  O.  K.  dog,  that's  what  he  is,"  he  added  loyally. 

"  Well,  he's  a  setter,  all  right,"  laughed  Silent. 
"  He  ain't  good  for  nothing  else  but  to  set  around 
all  day  in  the  shade  and  chew  hisself  up." 

"He  ain't,  ain't  he?"  cried  Humble,  delaying 
the  morsel  on  his  fork  in  mid-air.  "  You  ought 
to  see  him  a-chasing  coyotes!  " 

"  I  did  see  him  chasing  coyotes,  and  that's  why 
I  want  you  to  have  him  killed,"  replied  Silent, 

220 


The  Star  C  Gives  Welcome 


grinning.  u  His  feet  are  too  big.  Every  time  he 
shoves  his  hind  feet  between  the  front  ones  he 
throws  hisself." 

"  What  did  he  ever  catch  except  fleas  and  the 
mange?"  asked  Blake,  winking  at  The  Orphan, 
who  was  extremely  busy  burying  his  hunger. 

"  What  did  he  ever  catch !  "  indignantly  cried 
Humble,  dropping  his  fork.  "  You  saw  him  catch 
that  gray  wolf  over  near  the  timber,  and  you  can't 
deny  it,  neither!  " 

u  By  George,  he  did!"  exclaimed  Blake  seri 
ously.  "  You're  right  this  time,  Humble,  he  did. 
But  he  let  go  awful  sudden.  Besides,  that  gray 
wolf  you're  talking  about  was  a  coyote,  and  he 
would  have  died  of  old  age  in  another  week  if  you 
hadn't  shot  him  to  save  the  dog.  And,  what's 
more,  I  never  saw  him  chase  anything  since,  not 
even  rabbits." 

"  He  caught  my  boot  one  night,"  remarked 
Charley  Bailey,  reflectively,  "  right  plumb  on  his 
near  eye.  Oh,  he's  a  catcher,  all  right." 

"  He's  so  good  he  ought  to  be  stuffed,  then  he 
could  sit  without  having  to  move  around  catching 
boots  and  things,"  said  Jim.  "  Why  don't  you 
have  him  stuffed,  Humble?  " 

221 


The   Orphan 


"  Oh,  yore  a  whole  lot  smart,  now  ain't  you?  " 
blazed  the  persecuted  puncher,  glaring  at  his  tor 
mentors. 

"  He  can't  catch  his  tail,  Silent,"  offered  Bud. 
"  I  once  saw  him  trying  to  do  it  for  ten  minutes — 
he  looked  like  a  pinwheel  what  we  used  to  have 
when  we  were  kids.  Missed  it  every  time,  and  all 
he  got  was  a  cheap  drunk." 

Humble  said  a  few  things  which  came  out  so 
fast  that  they  jammed  up,  and  he  left  the  room  to 
hunt  for  his  dog.. 

"  Any  particular  reason  why  you  call  him  Light 
ning,  or  is  it  just  irony?  "  asked  The  Orphan  as  he 
helped  himself  to  the  beef  for  the  third  time.  "  I 
never  heard  that  name  used  before." 

"  Oh,  it  ain't  irony  at  all!  "  hastily  denied  the 
foreman.  "  That's  a  real  good  name,  fits  him 
all  right,"  he  assured.  Then  he  explained:  "  You 
see,  lightning  don't  hit  twice  in  the  same  place,  and 
neither  can  the  dog  when  he  scratches  himself. 
And,  besides,  he  can  dodge  awful  quick.  You 
have  to  figure  which  way  he'll  jump  when  you 
want  him  to  catch  anything." 

"  But  you  don't  have  to  remember  his  name  at 
all,  Stranger,"  interposed  Silent,  who  was  not  at 

222 


The  Star  C  Gives  Welcome 


all  silent.  "  Any  handle  will  do,  if  you  only  yells. 
Every  time  anybody  yells  he  makes  a  crow  line  for 
the  plain  and  howls  at  every  jump.  He's  got  a 
regular,  shore  enough  trail  worn  where  he  makes 
his  get-away." 

Silence  descended  over  the  table,  and  for  a  quar 
ter  of  an  hour  only  the  click  of  eating  utensils 
could  be  heard.  At  the  end  of  that  time  Blake 
pushed  back  his  chair  and  arose.  He  glanced 
around  the  table  and  then  spoke  very  distinctly: 
u  Well,  Orphan,  get  acquainted  with  your  outfit." 
A  head  or  two  raised  at  the  name,  but  that  seemed 
to  be  all  the  effect  of  his  words.  "  The  boys  will 
put  you  onto  the  game  in  the  morning,  and  Bud 
will  show  you  where  to  begin  in  case  I  don't  show 
up  in  time.  Better  take  a  fresh  cayuse  and  let  yours 
rest  up  some.  Don't  hurt  Humble's  ki-yi  and 
he'll  be  plumb  nice  to  you;  and  if  Silent  wants  to 
know  how  you  likes  his  singing  and  banjo  playing, 
lie  and  say  it's  fine." 

The  laugh  went  around  and  all  was  serene  with 
the  good  fellowship  which  is  so  often  found  in 
good  outfits. 

"  Joe,  I'll  bring  the  mail  out  with  me,  so  you 
needn't  go  after  it,"  continued  the  foreman  as  he 

223 


The   Orphan 


strode  towards  the  door.  "  That's  what  I'm  going 
over  for,"  he  laughed. 

"  Lord,  I'd  go,  too,  if  pie  and  cake  and  good 
coffee  was  on  the  card,"  laughed  Silent. 

"  We'll  shore  have  to  go  over  in  a  gang  some 
night  and  raid  that  pantry,"  remarked  Bud.  "  It 
would  be  a  circus,  all  right." 

"  The  sheriff  would  get  some  good  target  prac 
tice,  that's  shore,"  responded  Blake.  "  But  I've 
got  something  better  than  that,  and  since  you 
brought  the  subject  up  I'll  tell  you  now,  so  you'll 
be  good. 

"  Mrs.  Shields  has  promised  to  get  up  a  fine  feed 
for  you  fellows  as  soon  as  Jim's  sisters  are  on  hand 
to  help  her,  and  as  they  are  here  now  I  wouldn't 
be  a  whole  lot  surprised  if  I  brought  the  invitation 
back  with  me.  How's  that  for  a  change,  eh?" 
he  asked. 

"  Glory  be !  "  cried  Silent.  "  Hurry  up  and  get 
home!" 

"  Say,  she's  all  right,  ain't  she !  "  shouted  Jack, 
executing  a  jig  to  show  how  glad  he  was. 

"  Pinch  me,  Humble,  pinch  me !  "  begged  Bud. 
"  I  may  be  asleep  and  dreaming — here!  What  the 
devil  do  you  think  I  am,  you  wart-headed  coyote !  " 

224 


The  Star  C  Gives  Welcome 


he  yelled,  dancing  in  pain  and  rubbing  his  leg 
frantically.  "  You  blamed  doodle  bug,  yu !  " 

"  Well,  I  pinched  you,  didn't  I  ?  "  indignantly 
cried  Humble.  "  What's  eating  you?  Didn't  you 
ask  me  to,  you  chump  ?  " 

"  Hurry  up  and  get  that  mail,  Tom,"  cried  Jim. 
"  It  might  spoil — and  say,  if  she  leads  at  you  with 
that  invite,  clinch !  " 

Blake  laughed  and  went  off  toward  the  corral. 
As  he  found  the  horse  he  wished  to  ride  he  heard 
a  riot  in  the  bunkhouse  and  he  laughed  silently. 
A  Virginia  reel  was  in  full  swing  and  the  noise  was 
terrible.  Riding  past  the  window,  he  saw  Silent 
working  like  a  madman  at  his  banjo;  and  assidu 
ously  playing  a  harmonica  was  The  Orphan,  all 
smiles  and  puffed-out  cheeks. 

"  Well,  The  Orphan  is  all  right  now,"  the  fore 
man  muttered  as  he  swung  out  on  the  trail  to 
Ford's  Station.  "  I  reckon  he's  found  himself." 

In  the  bunkhouse  there  was  much  hilarity,  and 
laughter  roared  continually  at  the  grotesque  gym 
nastics  of  the  reel  and  at  the  sharp  wit  which  cut 
right  and  left,  respecting  no  one  save  the  new  mem 
ber  of  the  outfit,  and  eventually  he  came  in  for  his 
share,  which  he  repaid  with  interest.  Suddenly 

225 


The    Orphan 


Jim,  catching  his  spurs  in  a  bear-skin  rug  which 
lay  near  a  bunk,  threw  out  his  arms  to  save  him 
self  and  then  went  sprawling  to  the  floor.  The 
uproar  increased  suddenly,  and  as  it  died  down 
Jim  could  be  heard  complaining. 

11 !  "  he  cried  as  he  nursed  his  knee. 

"  I've  had  that  pelt  for  nigh  onto  three  years  and 
regularly  I  go  and  get  tangled  up  with  it.  It  shore 
beats  all  how  I  plumb  forget  its  habit  of  wrapping 
itself  around  them  rowels,  what  are  too  big,  any 
how.  And  it  ain't  a  big  one  at  that,  only  about 
half  as  big  as  the  one  I  got  for  a  tenderfoot  up  in 
Montanny,"  he  deprecated  in  disgust. 

The  outfit  scented  a  story  and  became  suddenly 
quiet. 

"  Dod-blasted  postage  stamp  of  a  pelt,"  he 
grumbled  as  he  threw  it  into  his  bunk. 

"  The  other  skin  couldn't  'a'  been  much  bigger 
than  that  one,"  said  Bud,  leading  him  on.  "  How 
big  was  it,  anyhow,  Jim?  " 

"  It  couldn't,  hey?  It  came  off  a  nine-foot 
grizzly,  that's  how  big  it  was,"  retorted  Jim,  sit 
ting  down  and  filling  his  pipe.  "  Nine  whole  feet 
from  stub  of  tail  to  snoot,  plumb  full  of  cussed- 
ness,  too." 

226 


The  Star  C  Gives  Welcome 


"  How'd  you  get  it — Sharps?  "  queried  Charley. 

"  No,  Colt,"  responded  Jim.  "  Luckiest  shot  / 
ever  made,  all  right.  I  shore  had  visions  of  wear 
ing  wings  when  I  pulled  the  trigger.  Just  one  of 
them  lucky  shots  a  man  will  make  sometimes." 

"  Give  us  the  story,  Jim,"  suggested  Silent,  set 
tling  himself  easily  in  his  bunk.  "  Then  we'll  have 
another  smoke  and  go  right  to  bed.  I'm  some 
sleepy." 

"  Well,"  began  Jim  after  his  pipe  was  going 
well,  u  I  was  sort  of  second  foreman  for  the  Tad 
pole,  up  in  Montanny,  about  six  years  ago.  I  had 
a  good  foreman,  a  good  ranch  and  about  a  dozen 
white  punchers  to  look  after.  And  we  had  a  real 
cook,  no  mistake  about  that,  all  right. 

"  The  Old  Man  hibernated  in  New  York  during 
the  winter  and  came  out  every  spring  right  after 
the  calf  round-up  was  over  to  see  how  we  was  fixed 
and  to  eat  some  of  the  cook's  flapjacks.  That  cook 
wasn't  no  yaller-skinned  post  for  a  hair  clothes  line, 
like  this  grinning  monkey  what  we've  got  here. 
The  Old  Man  was  a  fine  old  cuss — one  of  the  boys, 
and  a  darn  good  one,  too — and  we  was  always 
plumb  glad  to  see  him.  He  minded  his  own  busi 
ness,  didn't  tell  us  how  we  ought  to  punch  cows  and 

227 


The   Orphan 


didn't  bother  anybody  what  didn't  want  to  be 
bothered,  which  we  most  of  us  did  like. 

"  Well,  one  day  Jed  Thompson,  who  rustled 
our  mail  for  us  twice  a  month,  handed  me  a  letter 
for  the  foreman,  who  was  down  South  and 
wouldn't  be  back  for  some  time.  His  mother  had 
died  and  he  went  back  home  for  a  spell.  I  saw 
that  the  letter  was  from  the  Old  Man,  and  won 
dered  what  it  would  say.  I  sort  of  figured  that  it 
would  tell  us  when  to  hitch  up  to  the  buckboard 
and  go  after  him.  Fearing  that  he  might  land 
before  the  foreman  got  back,  I  went  and  opened 
it  up. 

"  It  was  from  the  Old  Man,  all  right,  but  it  was 
no  go  for  him  that  spring.  He  was  sick  abed  in 
New  York,  and  said  as  how  he  was  plumb  sorry 
he  couldn't  get  out  to  see  his  boys,  and  so  was  we 
sorry.  But  he  said  as  how  he  was  sending  us  a 
friend  of  his'n  who  wanted  to  go  hunting,  and 
would  we  see  that  he  didn't  shoot  no  cows.  We 
said  we  would,  and  then  I  went  on  and  found  out 
when  this  hunter  was  due  to  land. 

"  When  the  unfortunate  day  rolled  around  I 
straddled  the  buckboard  and  lit  out  for  Whisky 
Crossing,  twenty  miles  to  the  east,  it  being  the 

228 


The  Star  C  Gives   Welcome 


nearest  burg  on  the  stage  line.  And  as  I  pulled  in 
I  saw  Frank,  who  drove  the  stage,  and  he  was 
grinning  from  ear  to  ear. 

"  '  I  reckon  that's  your'n,'  he  said,  pointing  to  a 
circus  clown  what  had  got  loose  and  was  sizing  up 
the  town. 

"  '  The  drinks  are  on  me  when  I  sees  you  again, 
Frank/  I  said,  for  somehow  I  felt  that  he  was 
right. 

"  Then  I  sized  up  my  present,  and  blamed  if  he 
wasn't  all  rigged  out  to  kill  Indians.  While  my 
mouth  was  closing  he  ambled  up  to  me  and  stared 
at  my  gun,  which  must  'a'  been  purty  big  to  him. 

"  '  Are  you  Mr.  Fisher's  hired  man?  '  he  asked, 
giving  me  a  real  tolerating  look. 

"  Frank  followed  his  grin  into  the  saloon,  leav 
ing  the  door  open  so  he  could  hear  everything. 
That  made  me  plumb  sore  at  Frank,  him  a-doing 
a  thing  like  that,  and  I  glared. 

"  '  I  ain't  nobody's  hired  man,  and  never  was/ 
I  said,  sort  of  riled.  '  We  ain't  had  no  hired  man 
since  we  lynched  the  last  one,  but  I'm  next  door  to 
the  foreman.  Won't  I  do,  or  do  you  insist  on 
talking  to  a  hired  man?  If  you  do,  he's  in  the 
saloon.' 

229 


The   Orphan 


"  *  Oh,  yes,  you'll  do !  '  he  said,  quick-like,  and 
then  he  ups  and  climbs  aboard  and  we  pulled  out 
for  home,  Frank  waving  his  sombrero  at  me  and 
laughing  fit  to  kill. 

'  We  hadn't  no  more  than  got  started  when  the 
hunter  ups  and  grabs  at  the  lines,  which  he  shore 
missed  by  a  foot.  I  was  driving  them  cayuses,  not 
him,  and  I  told  him  so,  too. 

"  '  But  ain't  you  going  to  take  my  luggage?  '  he 
asked. 

"  '  Luggage!  What  luggage?  '  I  answers,  sur- 
prised-like. 

'  Then  he  pointed  behind  him,  and  blamed  if 
he  didn't  have  two  trunks,  a  gripsack  and  three 
gun  cases.  I  didn't  say  a  word,  being  too  full  of 
cuss  words  to  let  any  of  'em  loose,  until  Frank 
wobbled  up  and  asked  me  if  I'd  forgot  something. 
Then  I  shore  said  a  few,  after  which  I  busted  my 
back  a-hoisting  his  freight  cars  aboard,  and  we 
started  out  again,  Frank  acting  like  a  d n  fool. 

1  The  cayuses  raised  their  ears,  wondering  what 
we  was  taking  the  saloon  for,  and  I  reckoned  we 
would  make  them  twenty  miles  in  about  eight  hours 
if  nothing  busted  and  we  rustled  real  hard. 

"  Well,  about  every  twenty  minutes  I  had  to  get 
230 


The  Star  C   Gives  Welcome 


off  and  hoist  some  of  his  furniture  aboard,  it  being 
jolted  off,  for  the  prairie  wasn't  paved  a  whole  lot, 
and  us  going  cross-country.  Considering  my  back, 
and  the  fact  that  he  kept  calling  me  '  My 
man/  and  Frank's  grin,  I  wasn't  in  no  frame  of 
mind  to  lead  a  religion  round-up  when  I  got  home 
and  dumped  Davy  Crockett's  war-duds  overboard 
for  Jed  to  rustle  in.  I  was  still  sore  at  Jed  for 
bringing  that  letter. 

"  Davy  Crockett  dusted  for  the  house  and 
ordered  Sammy  Johns  to  oil  his  guns  and  put  them 
together,  after  which  he  went  off  a-poking  his  nose 
into  everything  in  sight,  and  mostly  everything  that 
wasn't  in  sight.  When  he  got  back  to  the  house 
from  his  tour  of  inspection  he  found  his  guns  just 
like  he'd  left  them,  and  that  was  in  their  cases. 
Then  he  ambled  out  to  me  and  registered  his  howl. 

"  '  My  man,'  he  said,  '  My  man,  that  hired  man 
what  I  told  to  put  my  guns  together  ain't  done  it !  ' 

"  '  Oh,  he  didn't?1  I  said,  hanging  on  to  my 
cuss  words,  for  I  was  some  surprised  and  couldn't 
say  a  whole  lot. 

"  '  No,  he  hasn't,  and  so  Fve  come  out  to  report 
him,'  he  said,  looking  mad. 

"  '  My  man !  '  said  I,  mad  some  myself,  and 
231 


The    Orphan 


looking  him  plumb  in  the  eyes.  '  My  man,  if  he 
had  I'd  shore  think  he  was  off  his  feed  or  loco.  He 
ain't  no  hired  man,  but  he  is  a  all-fired  good  cow- 
puncher,  and  I'm  a  heap  scared  about  him  not  fill 
ing  you  full  of  holes,  you  asking  him  to  do  a  thing 
like  that !  He  must  be  real  sick.' 

"  He  didn't  have  no  come-back  to  that,  but  just 
looked  sort  of  funny,  and  then  he  trotted  off  to  put 
his  guns  together  hisself.  I  hustled  around  and 
saw  that  some  work  was  done  right  and  then  went 
in  to  supper.  After  it  was  over  my  present  got  up 
and  handed  me  a  gun,  and  I  near  fell  over.  It 
was  a  purty  little  Winchester,  and  I  don't  blame 
him  a  whole  lot  for  being  tickled  over  it,  for  it 
shore  was  a  beauty,  but  it  oozed  out  a  ball  about 
the  size  of  a  pea,  and  the  makers  would  'a'  been 
some  scared  if  they  had  known  it  was  running 
around  loose  in  a  grizzly-bear  country. 

"  '  I  reckon  that'll  stop  him/  he  said,  happy-like. 

"'Stop  what?'  I  asked  him. 

"  *  Why,  game — bears,  of  course,'  he  said, 
shocked  at  my  appalling  ignorance. 

"  '  Yes,'  said  I,  slow-like,  '  I  reckon  Ephraim 
may  turn  around  and  scratch  hisself,  if  you  hits 
him.' 

232 


The  Star  C  Gives  Welcome 


"  '  Why,  won't  that  stop  a  bear?  ' 

11  '  Yes,  if  it's  a  stuffed  bear/  I  said. 

"  *  Why,  that's  a  blamed  good  rifle !  ' 

"  *  It  shore  is;  it's  as  fine  a  gun  as  I  ever  laid  my 
eyes  on,'  I  replied,  '  for  prairie  dogs  and  such.' 

"  Then  I  felt  plumb  sorry  for  him,  he  being  so 
ignorant,  and  so  when  he  hands  me  a  peach  of  a 
shotgun  to  shoot  coyotes  with  I  laid  it  down  and 
got  my  breach-loading  Sharps,  .50  caliber,  which 
I  handed  to  him. 

"  '  There,'  I  said,  *  that's  the  only  gun  in  the 
room  what  any  self-respecting  bear  will  give  a 
d n  for.' 

"  He  looked  at  it,  felt  its  heft,  sized  up  the  bung- 
hole  and  then  squinted  along  the  sights. 

"  '  Why,  this  gun  will  kick  like  the  very  deuce !' 
he  said. 

"  '  Kick!  '  said  I.  '  KICK!  She'll  kick  like  a 
army  mule  if  you  holds  her  far  enough  from  your 
shoulder.  But  I'd  a  whole  lot  ruther  get  kicked 
by  a  mule  than  hugged  by  a  grizzly,  and  so'll  you 
when  you  sees  him  a-heading  your  way.' 

"  '  But  what'll  you  use?  '  says  he,  '  I  don't  want 
to  take  your  gun.' 

"  Well,  when  he  said  that  I  reckoned  that  he 

233 


The   Orphan 


had  some  good  stuff  in  him  after  all,  and  somehow 
I  felt  better.  There  he  was,  away  from  his  mother 
and  sisters,  among  a  bunch  of  gamboling  cow- 
punchers,  and  right  in  the  middle  of  a  good  bear 
country.  I  sort  of  wondered  if  he  was  to  blame, 
and  managed  to  lay  all  the  fault  on  his  city 
bringing-up. 

"  '  That's  all  right/  says  I,  '  I'll  take  an  old 
muzzle-loading  Bridesburg  what's  been  laying 
around  the  house  ever  since  I  came  here.  It 
heaves  enough  lead  at  one  crack  to  sink  a  man-of- 
war,  being  a  .60  caliber.' 

"  Well,  bright  and  early  the  next  morning  we 
started  out  for  bear,  and  I  knowed  just  where  to 
look,  too.  You  see,  there  was  a  thicket  of  berry 
bushes  about  three  miles  from  the  ranch  house  and 
I  had  seen  plenty  of  tracks  there,  and  there  was  a 
grizzly  among  them,  too,  and  as  big  as  a  house, 
judging  from  the  signs.  The  boys  had  wanted  to 
ride  out  in  a  gang  and  rope  him,  but  I  said  as  how 
I  was  saving  him  for  a  dude  hunter  to  practice  on, 
so  they  left  him  alone. 

"  We  footed  it  through  the  brush,  and  finally 
Davy  Crockett,  who  simply  would  go  ahead  of  me, 
yelled  out  that  he  had  found  tracks. 

234 


The  Star  C   Gives   Welcome 


"  I  rustled  over,  and  sure  enough  he  had,  only 
they  wasn't  made  by  no  bear,  and  I  said  so. 

"  *  Then  what  are  they?  '  he  asked,  sort  of  dis 
appointed. 

'  Cow  tracks,'  said  I.  'When  you  see  bear 
tracks  you'll  know  it  right  away,'  and  we  went  on 
a-hunting. 

"  We  had  just  got  down  in  a  little  hollow,  where 
the  green  flies  were  purty  bad,  when  I  saw  tracks, 
and  they  was  bear  tracks  this  time,  and  whoppers. 
It  had  rained  a  little  during  the  night  and  the 
ground  was  just  soft  enough  to  show  them  nice. 
I  called  Davy  Crockett  and  he  came  up,  and  when 
he  saw  them  tracks  he  was  plumb  tickled,  and  some 
scairt. 

"  '  Where  is  he?  '  he  asked,  looking  around  sort 
of  anxious. 

"  '  At  the  front  end  of  these  tracks,  making 
more,'  said  I. 

"'And  what  are  we  going  to  do  now?'  he 
asked,  cocking  the  Sharps. 

"  '  We're  going  to  trail  him,'  said  I,  '  and  if  we 
finds  him  and  has  any  accidents,  you  wants  to  tele 
graph  yourself  up  a  tree,  and  be  sure  that  it  ain't 
a  big  tree,  too.' 

235 


The   Orphan 


"  '  "  Be  sure  it  ain't  a  big  tree!  "  '  he  repeated, 
looking  at  me  like  he  thought  I  wanted  him  to  get 
killed. 

"  '  Exactly,'  said  I,  and  then  I  explained:  *  The 
bigger  the  tree,  the  sooner  you'll  be  a  meal,  for  he 
climbs  by  hugging  the  trunk  and  pushing  hisself 
up.  A  little  tree'll  slide  through  his  legs,  and  he 
can't  get  a  holt/ 

"  *  I  hope  I  don't  forget  that !  '  he  exclaimed, 
looking  dubious. 

"  l  The  less  you  forgets  when  bear  hunting/  said 
I,  *  the  longer  you'll  remember.' 

"  We  took  up  the  trail  and  purty  soon  we  saw 
the  bear,  and  he  was  so  big  he  didn't  hardly  know 
how  to  act.  He  was  pawing  berries  into  his  mouth 
for  breakfast,  and  he  turned  his  head  and  slowly 
sized  us  up.  He  dropped  on  all  fours  and  then 
got  up  again,  and  Davy  Crockett,  not  listening  to 
me  telling  him  where  to  shoot,  lets  drive  and  busted 
an  ear.  Ephraim  preferred  all  fours  again  and 
started  coming  straight  at  us,  and  Moses  and  all 
his  bullrushers  couldn't  have  stopped  him.  He  was 
due  to  arrive  near  Davy  Crockett  in  about  four 
and  a  half  seconds,  and  that  person  dropped  his 
gun  and  hot-footed  it  for  a  whopping  big  tree.  I 

236 


The  Star  C   Gives   Welcome 


yelled  at  him  and  told  him  to  take  a  little  one,  but 
he  was  too  blamed  busy  hunting  bear  to  listen  to  a 
no-account  hired  man  like  me,  so  he  kept  on  a-going 
for  the  big  tree. 

"  I  figured,  and  figured  blamed  quick,  that  the 
bear  would  tag  him  just  about  the  time  he  tagged 
the  tree,  and  so,  hoping  to  create  a  diversion,  I 
whanged  away  at  the  bear's  tail,  him  running 
plumb  away  from  me.  I  was  real  successful,  for 
I  created  it  all  right.  When  he  felt  that  carload 
of  lead  slide  up  under  his  skin  he  braced  hisself, 
slid  and  wheeled,  looking  for  the  son-of-a-gun  what 
done  it,  and  he  saw  me  pouring  powder  hell-bent 
down  my  gun.  He  must  'a'  knowed  that  I  was  the 
real  business  end  of  the  partnership,  and  that  he'd 
have  trouble  a-plenty  if  he  let  me  finish  my  job,  for 
he  came  at  me  like  a  bullet. 

"  '  Climb  a  little  tree!  Climb  a  little  tree!' 
yelled  Davy  Crockett  from  his  perch  in  his  two- 
foot-through  oak. 

"  I  wasn't  in  no  joyous  frame  of  mind  when  a 
nine-foot  grizzly  was  due  in  the  next  mail,  but  I 
just  had  to  laugh  at  his  advice  when  I  sized  up  his 
layout.  As  I  jumped  to  one  side  the  bear  slid  past, 
trying  awful  hard  to  stop,  and  he  was  doing  real 

237 


The    Orphan 


well,  too.  As  he  turned  I  slipped  on  some  of  that 
green  grass,  and  thought  as  how  the  Old  Man 
would  have  to  get  another  puncher. 

"  *  I  ain't  never  going  to  peter  out  with  a  tender 
foot  looking  on  if  I  can  help  it !  '  I  said  to  myself, 
and  I  jerked  loose  my  six-shooter,  shooting  off 
hand  and  some  hasty.  It  was  just  a  last  hope,  the 
kick  of  a  dying  man's  foot,  but  it  fetched  him, 
blamed  if  it  didn't!  He  went  down  in  a  heap  and 
clawed  about  for  a  spell,  but  I  put  five  more  in 
him,  and  then  sat  down.  Did  you  ever  notice  how 
long  it  takes  a  grizzly  to  die?  I  loaded  my  gun  in 
a  hurry,  the  sweat  pouring  down  my  face,  for  that 
was  one  of  the  times  it  ain't  no  disgrace  to  be  some 
scared,  which  I  was. 

u  *  Is  he  dead?  '  called  Davy  Crockett  from  his 
tree,  hopeful-like  and  some  anxious. 

"  *  He  is,'  I  said,  *  or,  leastawise,  he  was.' 

"  Davy  was  a  sight.  He  was  all  skinned  up 
from  his  clinch  with  the  tree,  though  how  he  used 
his  face  getting  up  is  more  than  I  can  tell.  And 
he  was  some  white  and  unsteady.  He  had  all  the 
hunting  he  wanted,  and  he  managed  to  say  that  he 
was  glad  he  hadn't  come  out  alone,  and  that  he 
reckoned  I  was  right  about  his  guns  after  all.  So 

238 


The  Star  C  Gives  Welcome 


we  took  a  last  look  at  the  bear  and  lit  out  for  the 
ranch,  where  I  told  the  boys  to  go  out  and  drag 
our  game  home." 

Jim  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe  and  began 
to  fill  it  anew,  acting  as  though  the  story  was  fin 
ished,  but  Bud  knew  him  well,  and  he  spoke  up  : 

"Well,  what  then?"  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  the  hunter  left  for  New  York  the  very 
next  day,  and  I  skinned  the  bear  and  sent  the  pelt 
after  him  as  a  present.  When  I  wrote  out  my 
quarterly  report,  the  foreman  not  being  back  yet, 
I  told  the  Old  Man  that  if  he  had  any  more  friends 
what  wanted  to  go  hunting  to  send  them  up  to 
Frenchy  McAllister  on  the  Tin  Cup.  I  was  some 
sore  at  Frenchy  for  the  way  he  had  cleaned  me  out 
at  poker." 

He  threw  the  skin  to  the  floor  and  began  to 
undress. 

"  Come  on,  now,  lights  out,"  he  said.  "  I'm 
tired." 


239 


CHAPTER    XIV 

THE    SHERIFF   STATES   SOME    FACTS 

THE   foreman  of  the  Star   C   impatiently 
tossed  his  bridle  reins  over  the  post  which 
stood  near  the  sheriff's  door  and  knocked 
heavily,  brushing  the  dust  of  his  ride  from  him. 
Quick,  heavy  steps  approached  within  the  house 
and  the  door  suddenly  flew  open. 

u  Hullo,  Tom!"  Shields  cried,  shaking  hands 
with  his  friend.  "  Come  right  in — I  knew  you 
would  come  if  we  coaxed  you  a  little.'* 

"  You  don't  have  to  do  much  coaxing — I  can't 
stay  away,  Jim,"  replied  Blake  with  a  laugh. 
"  How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Shields?  " 

'Very  well,  Tom,"  she  answered.  "Miss 
Ritchie,  Helen,  Mary,  this  is  Tom  Blake;  Tom, 
Miss  Ritchie  and  James'  sisters.  They  are  to  stay 
with  us  just  as  long  as  they  can,  and  I'll  see  that  it 
is  a  good,  long  time,  too." 

u  How  do  you  do?  "  he  cried  heartily,  acknowl 
edging  the  introduction.  "  I  am  glad  to  meet  you, 

240 


The  Sheriff  States  Some  Facts 

for  I've  heard  a  whole  lot  about  you.  I  hope  you'll 
like  this  country — greatest  country  under  the  sky ! 
You  stay  out  here  a  month  and  I'll  bet  you'll  be 
just  like  lots  of  people,  and  not  want  to  go  back 
East  again." 

"  It  seems  as  though  we  have  always  known 
Mr.  Blake,  for  James  has  written  about  you  so 
much,"  replied  Helen,  and  then  she  laughed:  "  But 
I  am  not  so  sure  about  liking  this  country,  although 
very  unusual  things  seem  to  take  place  in  it.  The 
journey  was  very  trying,  and  it  seemed  to  get  worse 
as  we  neared  our  destination." 

"  Well,  I'll  have  to  confess  that  the  stage-ride 
part  of  it  is  a  drawback,  and  also  that  Apaches 
don't  make  good  reception  committees.  They  are 
a  little  too  pressing  at  times." 

"But,  speaking  seriously,"  responded  Helen,  "  I 
have  had  a  really  delightful  time.  James  has 
managed  to  get  me  a  very  tame  horse  after  quite  a 
long  search,  and  I  have  taken  many  rides  about  the 
country." 

"  Wait  'til  you  see  that  horse,  Tom,"  laughed 
the  sheriff.  "  It's  warranted  not  to  raise  any  devil 
ment,  but  it  can't,  for  it  has  all  it  can  do  to  stand 
up  alone,  and  can't  very  well  run  away." 

241 


The   Orphan 


"  I  see  that  The  Orphan  delivered  my  message, 
contrary  to  the  habits  of  men,"  remarked  the 
sheriff's  wife  as  she  took  the  guest's  hat  and  offered 
him  a  seat.  "  I  spoke  to  James  about  it  several 
days  ago,  and  asked  him  to  send  you  word  when 
he  could,  for  you  have  not  been  here  for  a  long 
time.  And  the  wonderful  thing  about  it  is  that 
he  remembered  to  tell  The  Orphan." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  replied,  seating  himself. 
"  Yes,  he  delivered  it  all  right,  it  was  about  the 
second  thing  he  said.  But  I  just  couldn't  get  here 
any  sooner,  Mrs.  Shields.  And  I  was  just  wonder 
ing  if  I  could  get  over  to-night  when  he  told  me. 
When  he  said  '  apricot  pie  '  he  looked  sort  of  sad." 

"  Poor  boy!  "  she  exclaimed.  "  You  must  take 
him  one — it  was  a  shame  to  send  such  a  message 
by  him,  poor,  lonesome  boy !  " 

"  Well,  he  ain't  so  lonesome  now,"  laughed 
Blake. 

Helen  had  looked  up  quickly  at  the  mention  of 
The  Orphan's  name,  and  the  sheriff  replied  to  her 
look  of  inquiry. 

"  I  sent  him  out  to  punch  for  Blake,  Helen,"  he 
said  quickly.  "  If  he  has  the  right  spirit  in  him 
he'll  get  along  with  the  Star  C  outfit;  if  he  hasn't, 

242 


The  Sheriff  States  Some  Facts 

why,  he  won't  get  on  with  anybody.  But  I  reckon 
Tom  will  bring  out  all  the  good  in  him ;  he'll  have 
a  fair  show,  anyhow." 

"  And  you  never  told  us  about  it!  "  cried  Helen 
reproachfully. 

"  Oh,  I  was  saving  it  up,"  laughed  the  sheriff. 
"  What  do  you  think  of  him,  Tom?  "  he  asked, 
turning  to  the  foreman. 

"  Why,  he's  a  clean-looking  boy,"  answered 
Blake.  u  I  like  his  looks.  He  seems  to  be  a  fellow 
what  can  be  depended  on  in  a  pinch,  and  after  all 
I  had  heard  about  him  he  sort  of  took  me  by  sur 
prise.  I  thought  he  would  be  a  tough-looking 
killer,  and  there  he  was  only  a  overgrown,  mis 
chievous  kid.  But  there  is  a  look  in  his  eyes  that 
says  there  is  a  limit.  But  he  surprised  me,  all 
right." 

"  You  want  to  appreciate  that,  Miss  Ritchie," 
remarked  the  sheriff,  smiling  broadly.  "  Anything 
that  takes  Tom  Blake  by  surprise  must  have  merit 
of  some  kind.  And  he  is  a  good  judge  of  men, 


too." 


"  I  do  so  hope  he  gets  on  well,"  she  replied 
earnestly.  "  He  was  a  perfect  gentleman  when  he 
was  here,  and  his  wit  was  sharp,  too.  And  out 

243 


The    Orphan 


there  on  that  awful  plain,  when  he  stood  swaying 
with  weakness,  he  looked  just  splendid!  " 

"  Pure  grit,  pure  grit !  "  cried  the  sheriff  in  reply. 
"  That's  why  I'm  banking  on  him,"  he  added,  his 
eyes  warming  as  he  remembered.  "  Any  fellow 
who  could  turn  a  trick  like  that,  and  who  has  so 
much  clean-cut  courage,  must  be  worth  looking 
after.  He's  got  a  bad  reputation,  but  he's  plumb 
white  and  square  with  me,  and  I'm  going  to  be 
square  with  him.  And  when  you  know  all  that  I 
know  about  him  you'll  take  his  reputation  as  a 
natural  result  of  hard  luck,  spunk,  and  other  peo 
ple's  devilment  and  foolishness.  But  he's  going 
to  have  a  show  now,  all  right." 

'  What  did  your  men  say  when  they  saw  him? 
Do  they  know  who  he  is?"  asked  Mrs.  Shields 
anxiously. 

Blake  laughed:  "  Oh,  yes,  they  know  who  he  is. 
They  ain't  the  talking  kind  in  a  case  like  that;  they 
won't  say  a  word  to  him  about  what  he  has  done. 
Besides,  he  was  under  their  roof,  eating  their  food, 
and  that's  enough  for  them.  Of  course,  they  were 
a  little  surprised,  but  not  half  as  much  as  I  thought 
they  would  be.  He  is  a  man  who  gives  a  good 
first  impression,  and  the  boys  are  all  fine  fellows, 

244 


The  Sheriff  States  Some  Facts 

big-hearted,  square,  clean-living  and  peaceful. 
Reputations  don't  count  for  much  with  them,  for 
they  know  that  reputations  are  gossip-made  in  most 
cases.  I  asked  him  to  stay,  and  they  haven't  got 
no  reason  to  object,  and  they  won't  waste  no  time 
looking  for  reasons,  neither.  If  there  is  any  trou 
ble  at  all,  it  will  be  his  own  fault.  Then  again, 
they  know  that  he  is  all  sand  and  that  his  gun-play 
is  real  and  sudden ;  not  that  they  are  afraid  of  him, 
or  anybody  else,  for  that  matter,  but  he  is  the  kind 
of  a  man  they  like — somebody  who  can  stand  up 
on  his  own  legs  and  give  better  than  he  gets." 

"  I  reckon  he  fills  that  bill,  all  right,"  laughed 
the  sheriff.  "  He  can  stand  up  on  his  own  legs, 
and  when  he  does  he  makes  good.  And  as  for  gun 
play,  good  Lord,  he's  a  shore  wizard !  I  reckoned 
I  could  do  things  with  a  gun,  but  he  can  beat  me. 
He  ain't  no  Boston  pet,  and  he  ain't  no  city  tough, 
not  nohow.  And  I'd  rather  have  him  with  me  in 
a  mix-up  than  against  me.  He's  the  coolest  propo 
sition  loose  in  this  part  of  the  country  at  any  game, 
and  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about,  too." 

"  You  promised  to  tell  us  everything  about  him, 
all  you  knew,"  reproached  Helen.  "  And  I  am 
sure  that  it  will  be  well  worth  hearing." 

245 


The   Orphan 


"  Well,  I  was  saving  it  up  'til  I  could  tell  it  all 
at  once  and  when  you  would  all  be  together,"  he 
replied.  "  There  wasn't  any  use  of  telling  it 
twice,"  he  explained  as  he  brought  out  a  box  of 
cigars.  "  These  are  the  same  brand  you  sampled 
last  time  you  were  here,"  he  assured  his  friend  as 
he  extended  the  box. 

"  By  George,  that's  fine!  "  cried  the  foreman, 
picking  out  the  blackest  cigar  he  could  see.  "  I 
could  taste  them  cigars  for  a  whole  week,  they  was 
so  good.  There's  nothing  like  a  good  Perfecto  to 
make  a  fellow  feel  like  he's  too  lucky  to  live." 

"  Oh,"  said  Mrs.  Shields.  "  Then  you  won't 
care  for  the  coffee  and  pie  and  gingerbread,"  she 
sighed.  "  I'm  very  sorry." 

Blake  jumped:  "  Lord,  Ma'am,"  he  cried  has 
tily,  "  I  meant  in  the  smoking  line !  Why,  I've 
been  losing  sleep  a-dreaming  of  your  cooking. 
Every  time  the  cook  fills  my  cup  with  his  insult  to 
coffee  I  feel  so  lonesome  that  it  hurts !  " 

1  You  want  to  look  out,  Tom !  "  laughingly 
warned  the  sheriff,  "  or  you'll  get  yourself  disliked ! 
When  I  don't  care  for  Margaret's  cooking  I  ain't 
fool  enough  to  say  so,  not  a  bit  of  it." 

"  You're  a  nice  one  to  talk  like  that!  "  cried  his 
246 


The  Sheriff  States  Some  Facts 

wife.  "  You  are  just  like  a  little  boy  on  baking 
day — I  can  hardly  keep  you  out  of  the  kitchen. 
You  bother  me  to  death,  and  it  is  all  I  can  do  to 
cook  enough  for  you !  " 

After  the  laugh  had  subsided  and  a  steaming  cup 
of  coffee  had  been  placed  at  the  foreman's  elbow, 
Helen  impatiently  urged  her  brother  to  begin  his 
story. 

He  lighted  his  cigar  with  exasperating  deliber- 
ateness  and  then  laughed  softly:  "  Gosh!  I'm  get 
ting  to  be  a  second  fiddle  around  here.  From 
morning  to  night  all  I  hear  is  The  Orphan.  The 
first  thing  that  hits  me  when  I  come  home  is,  '  Have 
you  seen  The  Orphan  ?  '  or,  '  Have  you  heard  any 
thing  about  him?  '  The  worst  offenders  are  Miss 
Ritchie  and  Helen.  They  pester  me  nigh  to  death 
about  him.  But  here  goes : 

"  I  reckon  I'd  better  begin  with  Old  John  Tay 
lor,"  he  slowly  began.  "  I've  been  doing  some 
quiet  hunting  lately,  and  in  the  course  of  it  I  ran 
across  Old  John  down  in  Crockettsville.  You 
remember  him,  don't  you,  Tom?  Yes,  I  reckoned 
you  wouldn't  forget  the  man  who  got  us  out  of 
that  Apache  scrape.  Well,  I  had  a  good  talk  with 
him,  and  this  is  what  I  learned : 

247 


The   Orphan 


"  About  twenty  years  ago  a  family  named  Gor 
don  moved  into  northwestern  Texas  and  put  up  a 
shack  in  one  of  the  valleys.  There  was  three  of 
them,  father,  mother,  and  a  bright  little  five-year- 
old  boy,  and  they  brought  about  two  hundred  head 
of  cattle,  a  few  horses  and  a  whole  raft  of  books. 
Gordon  bought  up  quite  a  bit  of  land  from  a  ranch 
nearby  at  almost  a  song,  and  he  never  thought  of 
asking  for  a  deed — who  would,  down  there  in 
those  days?  There  wasn't  a  rancher  who  owned 
more  than  a  quarter  section;  you  know  the  game, 
Tom — take  up  a  hundred  and  sixty  acres  on  a 
stream  and  then  claim  about  a  million,  and  fight 
like  the  very  devil  to  hold  it.  We've  all  done  it,  I 
reckon,  but  there  is  plenty  of  land  for  everybody, 
and  so  there  is  no  kick.  Well,  he  was  shore  lucky, 
for  his  boundary  on  two  sides  was  a  fair-sized 
stream  that  never  went  dry,  and  you  know  how 
scarce  that  is — a  whole  lot  better  than  a  gold  mine 
to  a  cattleman. 

"  They  got  along  all  right  for  a  while,  had  a 
tenderfoot's  luck  with  their  cattle,  which  soon 
began  to  be  more  than  a  few  specks  on  the  plain, 
and  he  was  very  well  satisfied  with  everything, 
except  that  there  wasn't  no  school.  Old  man  Gor- 

248 


The  Sheriff  States  Some  Facts 

don  was  daffy  on  education,  which  is  a  good  thing 
to  be  daffy  over,  and  he  was  some  strong  in  that 
line  himself,  having  been  a  school  teacher  back 
East.  But  he  took  his  boy  in  hand  and  taught  him 
all  he  knew,  which  must  have  been  a  whole  lot, 
judging  from  things  in  general,  and  the  kid  was  a 
smart,  quick  youngster.  He  was  plumb  crazy 
about  two  things — books  and  guns.  He  read  and 
re-read  all  the  books  he  could  borrow,  and  got  so 
he  could  handle  a  gun  with  any  man  on  the  range. 
"  About  five  years  after  he  had  located,  the 
ranchman  from  whom  he  bought  his  range  and 
water  rights  went  and  died.  Some  of  the  heirs, 
who  were  not  what  you  would  call  square,  began 
to  get  an  itching  for  Gordon's  land,  which  was 
improved  by  the  first  irrigation  ditch  in  Texas. 
There  was  a  garden  and  a  purty  good  orchard, 
which  was  just  beginning  to  bear  fruit.  It  was 
pure,  cussed  hoggishness,  for  there  was  more  land 
than  anybody  had  any  use  for,  but  they  must  grab 
everything  in  sight,  no  matter  what  the  cost. 
Trouble  was  the  rule  after  that,  and  the  old  man 
was  up  against  it  all  the  time.  But  he  managed  to 
hold  his  own,  even  though  he  did  lose  a  lot  of 
cattle. 

249 


Th e   Orphan 


"  His  brand  was  a  gridiron,  which  wasn't  much 
different  from  the  gridiron-circle  brand  of  the  big 
ranch.  It  ain't  much  trouble  to  use  a  running  iron 
through  a  wet  blanket  and  change  a  brand  like  that 
when  you  know  how,  and  the  Gridiron  Circle  gang 
shore  enough  knew  how.  Their  expertness  with  a 
running  iron  would  have  caused  questions  to  be 
asked,  and  probably  a  lynching  bee,  in  other  parts 
of  the  country,  but  down  there  they  were  purty 
well  alone.  They  let  Gordon  know  that  he  had 
jumped  the  range,  which  was  just  what  they  had 
done,  that  he  didn't  own  it,  and  that  the  sooner  he 
left  the  country  the  better  it  would  be  for  his 
health.  But  he  had  peculiar  ideas  about  justice, 
and  he  shore  was  plumb  full  of  grit  and  obstinacy. 
He  knew  he  was  right,  that  he  had  paid  for  the 
land,  and  that  he  had  improved  it.  And  he  had  a 
lot  of  faith  in  the  law,  not  realizing  that  he  hadn't 
anything  to  show  the  law.  And  he  didn't  know 
that  law  and  justice  don't  always  mean  the  same 
thing,  not  by  a  long  shot. 

"  Well,  one  day  he  went  out  looking  for  a  vein 
of  coal,  which  he  thought  ought  to  be  thereabouts, 
according  to  his  books,  and  it  ought  to  be  close  to 
the  surface  of  a  fissure.  He  reckoned  that  coal  of 

250 


The  Sheriff  States  Some  Facts 

any  quality  would  be  some  better  than  chips  and 
the  little  wood  he  owned,  so  he  got  busy.  But  he 
didn't  find  coal,  but  something  that  made  him  hot 
foot  it  to  his  books.  When  the  report  came  back 
from  the  assay  office  he  knew  that  he  had  hit  on  a 
vein  of  native  silver,  which  was  some  better  than 
coal. 

"  It  didn't  take  long  for  the  news  to  get  around, 
though  God  Himself  only  knows  how  it  did,  unless 
the  storekeeper  told  that  a  package  had  gone 
through  his  hands  addressed  to  the  assay  office,  and 
things  began  to  happen  in  chunks.  He  caught 
three  Gridiron  Circle  punchers  shooting  his  cows, 
and  he  was  naturally  mad  about  it  and  just  shot  up 
the  bunch  before  they  knew  he  was  around.  He 
killed  one  and  spoiled  the  health  of  the  other  two 
for  some  time  to  come,  which  naturally  spelled  war 
with  a  big  W.  Then  about  this  time  his  wife  went 
and  died,  which  was  a  purty  big  addition  to  his 
troubles.  As  he  stood  above  her  grave,  all  broken 
up,  and  about  ready  to  give  up  the  fight  and  go 
back  East,  he  was  shot  at  from  cover.  He  didn't 
much  care  if  he  was  killed  or  not,  until  he  remem 
bered  that  he  had  a  boy  to  take  care  of.  Then  he 
got  fighting  mad  all  at  once,  all  of  his  troubles 

251 


The   Orphan 


coming  up  before  him  in  a  bunch,  and  he  got  his 
gun  and  went  hunting,  which  was  only  right  and 
proper  under  the  circumstances." 

The  sheriff  flecked  the  ashes  of  his  cigar  into  a 
blue  flower  pot  which  was  gay  with  white  ribbons, 
and  poured  himself  a  cup  of  coffee. 

"  I  hate  to  think  that  it  is  possible  to  find  a  whole 
ranch  of  hellions  from  the  owner  down,"  he  con 
tinued,  "  but  the  nature  of  the  owner  picks  a  dirty 
foreman,  and  a  dirty  foreman  needs  dirty  men,  and 
there  you  are.  That  fits  the  case  of  the  Gridiron 
Circle  to  a  T.  There  was  not  one  white  man  in 
the  whole  gang,"  and  he  sat  in  silence  for  a  space. 

"  Well,  the  boy,  who  was  about  fifteen  years  old 
by  this  time,  took  his  gun  and  went  out  to  find  his 
daddy,  and  he  succeeded.  He  cut  him  down  and 
buried  him  and  then  went  home.  That  night  the 
shack  burned  to  the  ground,  the  orchard  was  ruined 
and  the  boy  disappeared.  Some  people  said  that 
the  kid  took  what  he  wanted  and  burned  the  house 
rather  than  to  have  it  profaned  as  a  range  house 
by  the  curs  who  murdered  his  dad;  and  some  said 
the  other  thing,  but  from  what  I  know  of  the  kid, 
I  reckon  he  did  it  himself. 

"  Right  there  and  then  things  began  to  happen 
252 


The  Sheriff  States  Some  Facts 

that  hurt  the  ease  and  safety  of  the  Gridiron  Circle. 
Cows  were  found  dead  all  over  the  range — juglars 
cut  in  every  case.  Three  of  their  punchers  were 
found  dead  in  one  week — a  .5<>caliber  Sharps  had 
done  it.  A  regular  reign  of  terror  began  and  kept 
the  outfit  on  the  nervous  jump  all  the  time.  They 
searched  and  trailed  and  searched  and  swore,  and 
if  one  of  them  went  off  by  himself  he  was  usually 
ready  to  be  buried.  Ten  experienced,  old-time 
cowmen  were  made  fools  of  by  a  fifteen-year-old 
kid,  who  was  never  seen  by  anybody  that  lived  long 
enough  to  tell  about  it.  When  he  got  hungry,  he 
just  killed  another  cow  and  had  a  porterhouse  steak 
cooked  between  two  others  over  a  good  fire.  He 
ate  the  middle  steak,  which  had  all  the  juices  of  the 
two  burned  ones,  and  threw  the  others  away.  Three 
meals  a  day  for  six  months,  and  one  cow  to  a  meal, 
was  the  order  of  things  on  the  ranges  of  the  Grid 
iron  Circle.  He  had  plenty  of  ammunition,  be 
cause  every  dead  puncher  was  minus  his  belt  when 
found  and  his  guns  were  broken  or  gone ;  and  early 
in  the  game  the  boy  had  made  a  master  stroke :  he 
raided  the  storehouse  of  the  ranch  one  night  and 
lugged  away  about  five  hundred  rounds  of  ammu 
nition  in  his  saddle  bags,  with  a  couple  of  spare 

253 


The   Orphan 


Colts  and  a  repeating  Winchester  of  the  latest 
pattern,  and  he  spoiled  all  the  rest  of  the  guns  he 
could  lay  his  hands  on.  Humorous  kid,  wasn't  he, 
shooting  up  the  ranch  with  its  own  guns  and 
cartridges? 

"  Finally,  however,  after  the  news  had  spread, 
which  it  did  real  quick,  a  regular  lynching  party 
was  arranged,  and  the  U-B,  which  lay  about  sixty 
miles  to  the  east,  sent  over  half  a  dozen  men  to 
take  a  hand.  Then  the  Gridiron  Circle  had  a  rest, 
but  while  the  gang  was  hunting  for  him  and  laying 
all  sorts  of  elaborate  traps  to  catch  him,  the  boy 
was  over  on  the  U-B,  showing  it  how  foolish  it  had 
been  to  take  up  another  man's  quarrel.  By  this 
time  the  whole  country  knew  about  it,  and  even 
some  Eastern  papers  began  to  give  it  much  atten 
tion.  One  of  the  punchers  of  the  Gridiron  Circle, 
when  he  found  a  friend  dead  and  saw  the  tracks 
of  the  kid  in  the  sand,  swore  and  cried  that  it  was 

'  that  d n  Orphan  '  who  had  done  it,  and  the 

name  stuck.  He  had  become  an  outlaw  and  was 
legitimate  prey  for  any  man  who  had  the  chance 
and  grit  to  turn  the  trick.  For  ten  years  he  has 
been  wandering  all  over  the  range  like  a  hunted 
gray  wolf,  fighting  for  his  life  at  every  turn  against 

254 


The  Sheriff  States  Some  Facts 

all  kinds  of  odds,  both  human  and  natural.  And 
I  reckon  that  explains  why  he  is  accused  of  doing 
so  much  killing.  He  has  been  hunted  and  forced 
to  shoot  to  save  his  own  life,  and  a  gray  wolf  is  a 
fighter  when  cornered.  I  know  that  I  wouldn't 
give  up  the  ghost  if  I  could  help  it,  and  neither 
would  anybody  else." 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  shame,  an  awful  shame !  "  cried 
Helen,  tears  of  sympathy  in  her  eyes.  "  How 
could  they  do  it?  I  don't  blame  him,  not  a  bit! 
He  did  right,  terrible  as  it  was !  And  only  a  boy 
when  they  began,  too !  Oh,  it  is  awful,  almost 
unbelievable !  " 

"  Yes,  it  is,  Sis,"  replied  Shields  earnestly.  "  It 
ain't  his  fault,  not  by  any  manner  or  means — he 
was  warped."  And  then  he  added  slowly:  "  But 
Tom  and  I  will  straighten  him  out,  and  if  some 
folks  hereabouts  don't  like  it,  they  can  shore  lump 
it,  or  fight." 

"  Tell  me  how  you  met  him,  Jim,"  requested 
Blake  in  the  interval  of  silence.  "  I've  heard  some 
of  it,  second-handed,  or  third-handed,  but  I'd  like 
to  have  it  straight." 

"  Well,"  the  sheriff  continued,  "  when  he  came 
to  these  parts  I  didn't  know  anything  about  him 

255 


The  Orphan 


except  what  I  had  heard,  which  was  only  bad. 
He  had  a  nasty  way  of  handling  his  gun,  a  hair- 
trigger  and  a  nervous  finger  on  his  gun,  and  he 
had  a  distressing  way  of  using  one  cow  to  a  meal, 
so  I  got  busy.  I  didn't  expect  much  trouble  in 
getting  him.  I  knew  that  he  was  only  a  youngster 
and  I  counted  on  my  fifty  years,  and  most  of  them 
of  experience,  getting  him.  Being  young,  I  reck 
oned  he  would  be  foolhardy  and  hasty  and  uncer 
tain  in  his  wisdom;  but,  Lord!  it  was  just  like  try 
ing  to  catch  a  flea  in  the  dark.  He  was  here, 
there  and  everywhere.  While  I  was  down  south 
hunting  along  his  trail  he  would  be  up  north 
objecting  to  the  sheep  industry  in  ingenious  ways 
and  varying  his  bill  of  fare  with  choice  cuts  of 
lamb  and  mutton.  And  by  the  time  I  got  down 
south  he  would  be — God  only  knows  where,  I 
didn't.  I  could  only  guess,  and  I  guessed  wrong 
until  the  last  one.  And  then  it  was  the  toss  of  a 
coin  that  decided  it. 

"  After  a  while  he  began  to  get  more  daring, 
and  when  I  say  more  daring  I  mean  an  open  game 
with  no  limit.  He  began  to  prove  my  ideas  about 
his  age  making  him  reckless,  though  he  was  cau 
tious  enough,  to  be  sure.  One  day,  not  long  ago, 

256 


The  Sheriff  States  Some  Facts 

he  had  a  run-in  with  two  sheepmen  out  by  the 
U  bend  of  the  creek,  who  had  driven  their  herds 
up  on  Cross  Bar-8  land  and  over  the  dead  line 
established  by  the  ranch.  They  must  have  taken 
him  for  some  Cross  Bar-8  puncher  and  thought 
he  was  going  to  kick  up  a  fuss  about  the  trespass, 
or  else  they  recognized  him.  Anyway,  when  I  got 
on  the  scene  they  were  ready  to  be  planted,  which 
I  did  for  them.  Then  I  went  after  him  on  a 
plain  trail  north — and  almost  too  plain  to  suit  me, 
because  it  looked  like  it  had  been  made  plain  as  an 
invitation.  He  had  picked  out  the  softest  ground 
and  left  plenty  of  good  tracks.  But  I  was  some 
mad  and  didn't  care  much  what  I  run  into.  I 
thought  he  had  driven  the  whole  blasted  herd  of 
baa-baas  over  that  high  bank  and  into  the 
creek,  for  the  number  of  dead  sheep  was  shore 
scandalous. 

"  I  followed  that  cussed  trail  north,  east,  south, 
west  and  then  all  over  the  whole  United  States,  it 
seemed  to  me.  And  it  was  always  growing  older, 
because  I  had  to  waste  time  in  dodging  chaparrals 
and  things  like  that  that  might  hold  him  and  his 
gun.  I  went  picking  my  way  on  a  roundabout 
course  past  thickets  of  honey  mesquite  and  cactus 

257 


The   Orphan 


gardens,  over  alkali  flats  and  everything  else,  and 
the  more  I  fooled  about  the  madder  I  got.  I  ain't 
no  real,  genuine  fool,  and  I've  had  some  experi 
ence  at  trailing,  but  I  had  to  confess  that  I  was 
just  a  plain,  ordinary  monkey-on-a-stick  when 
stacked  up  against  a  kid  that  was  only  about  half 
my  age,  because  suddenly  the  plainness  of  the  trail 
disappeared  and  I  was  left  out  on  the  middle  of 
a  burning  desert  to  guess  the  answer  as  best  I 
could.  I  knew  what  he  had  done,  all  right,  but 
that  didn't  help  me  a  whole  lot.  Did  you  ever 
trail  anybody  that  used  padded-leather  footpads 
on  his  cayuse's  feet,  and  that  went  on  a  walk, 
picking  out  the  hardest  ground?  No?  Well,  I 
have,  and  it's  no  cinch. 

"  I  got  tired  of  chasing  myself  back  to  the  same 
place  four  times  out  of  five,  and  I  reckons  that 
it  wouldn't  be  very  long  before  he  had  made  his 
circle  and  got  me  in  front  of  him.  It  ain't  no 
church  fair  to  be  hunting  a  mad  devil  like  him 
under  the  best  conditions,  and  it's  a  whole  lot  less 
like  one  when  he  gets  behind  you  doing  the  same 
thing.  I  didn't  know  whether  he  had  swung  to 
the  north  or  south,  so  I  tossed  up  a  coin  and  cried 
heads  for  north — and  it  was  tails.  I  cut  loose  at 

258 


The  Sheriff  States  Some  Facts 

a  lope  and  had  been  riding  for  some  time  when  I 
saw  something  through  an  opening  in  the  chapar 
rals  to  the  east  of  me,  and  it  moved.  I  swung  my 
glasses  on  it,  and  I'm  blamed  if  it  wasn't  an 
Apache  war  party  bound  north.  They  were  about 
a  mile  to  the  east  of  me,  and  if  they  kept  on  going 
straight  ahead  they  would  run  across  my  trail  in 
about  three  hours,  for  it  gradually  worked  their 
way.  I  ducked  right  then  and  there  and  struck 
west  for  a  time,  turning  south  again  until  I  hit 
the  Cimarron  Trail,  which  I  followed  east.  Well, 
as  I  went  around  one  side  of  the  chaparral  six  mad 
Apaches  went  around  the  other,  and  they  hit  my 
trail  too  soon  to  suit  me.  I  heard  a  hair-raising 
yell  and  lit  out  in  the  direction  of  Chattanooga  as 
hard  as  I  could  go,  with  a  hungry  chorus  a  mile 
behind  me. 

"  I  had  just  passed  that  freak  bowlder  on  the 
Apache  Trail  when  the  man  I  was  looking  for 
turned  up,  and  with  the  drop,  of  course.  We 
reckoned  that  two  was  needed  to  stop  the  war 
paints,  which  we  did,  him  running  the  game  and 
doing  most  of  the  playing.  I  felt  like  I  was  his 
honored  guest  whom  he  had  invited  to  share  in 
the  festivities.  He  had  plenty  of  chances  to  nail 

259 


Th e  Orphan 


me  if  he  wanted  to,  and  he  had  chipped  in  on  a 
game  that  he  didn't  have  to  take  cards  in;  and  to 
help  me  out.  He  could  have  let  them  get  me  and 
they  would  have  thought  that  I  had  done  all  the 
injury  and  that  there  wasn't  another  man  on  the 
desert.  But  he  didn't,  and  I  began  to  think  he 
wasn't  as  bad  as  he  was  painted." 

Then  he  told  of  the  trouble  between  The 
Orphan  and  Jimmy  of  the  Cross  Bar-8,  and  of  the 
rage  which  blossomed  out  on  the  ranch. 

"That  shore  settled  it  for  the  Cross  Bar-8. 
They  wanted  lots  of  gore,  and  they  got  it,  all 
right,  when  he  played  five  of  their  punchers 
against  the  very  war  party  he  had  sent  north  to 
meet  me,  while  I  was  chasing  him.  That  war 
party  must  have  found  something  to  their  liking, 
wandering  about  the  country  all  that  time." 

Blake  interrupted  him :  "  War  party  that  he 
sent  north  to  meet  you?"  he  asked  in  surprise. 
"How  could  he  do  that?" 

"  That's  just  what  I  said,"  replied  Shields,  and 
then  he  explained  about  the  arrow.  "  Any  man 
who  could  stack  a  deck  like  that  and  use  one  dan 
ger  to  wipe  out  another  ain't  going  to  get  caught 
by  an  outfit  of  lunkheads — by  George!  if  he  didn't 

260 


The  Sheriff  States  Some  Facts 

work  nearly  the  same  trick  on  the  Cross  Bar-8 
crowd!     Oh,  it's  great,  simply  great!  " 

The  foreman  slapped  his  knee  enthusiastically: 
"  Fine!  Fine!  "  he  exulted.  "  That  fellow  has 
got  brains,  plenty  of  them !  And  he'll  make  use  of 
them  to  the  good  of  this  country,  too,  before  we 
get  through  with  him." 

Shields  continued:  "After  he  sic'd  the  chumps 
of  the  Cross  Bar-8  on  the  Apaches  he  shore  raised 
the  devil  on  the  ranch  and  I  was  asked  to  go  out 
and  run  things,  which  I  did,  or  rather  thought  I 
would  do.  Charley  and  I  and  the  two  Larkin  boys 
laid  out  on  the  plain  all  night,  covered  up  with 
sand,  waiting  for  him  to  show  up  between  us  and 
the  windows — and  the  first  thing  I  saw  in  the  morn 
ing  was  Helen's  flower-pot  here — it  used  to  be  Mar 
garet's — setting  up  on  top  of  a  pile  of  sand  under 
my  very  nose  where  he  had  stuck  it  while  I  waited 
for  him — and  blamed  if  he  hadn't  signed  his  name 
in  the  sand  at  its  base !  "  He  suddenly  turned  to 
his  sister:  "Tell  Tom  about  him  calling  on  you 
while  I  was  waiting  for  him  out  on  the  ranch, 
Helen." 

Helen  did  so  and  the  way  she  told  it  caused  the 
women  to  look  keenly  at  her. 

261 


The   Orphan 


Blake  laughed  heartily:  "  Now,  don't  that  beat 
all !  "  he  cried. 

"  It  don't  beat  this,"  responded  the  sheriff,  turn 
ing  again  to  Helen.  "  Tell  him  about  the  stage 
coach,  Sis." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  much  about  the  first  part  of 
it,"  she  replied.  u  All  I  remember  is  a  terrible  ride 
— oh,  it  was  awful !  "  she  cried,  shuddering  as  she 
remembered  the  tortures  of  the  Concord.  "  But 
when  we  stopped  and  after  I  managed  to  get  out 
of  the  coach  I  saw  the  driver  carrying  a  man  on 
his  shoulders  and  coming  toward  us.  He  laid  his 
burden  down  and  revived  him — and  he  was  a  young 
man,  and  covered  with  blood."  Then  she  paused: 
"  He  was  real  nice  and  polite  and  didn't  seem  to 
think  that  he  had  done  anything  out  of  the  ordinary. 
Then  we  went  on  and  he  left  us." 

The  sheriff  laughed  and  leveled  an  accusing  fin 
ger  at  her: 

"  You  have  left  out  a  whole  lot,  Sis,"  he  said 
affectionately.  "  Helen  acted  just  like  the  thor 
oughbred  she  is,  Tom,"  he  continued.  "  I  guess 
Bill  told  you  all  about  it,  for  he's  aired  it  purty 
well.  Why,  she  even  lost  her  gold  pin  a-helping 
him !  "  and  he  grinned  broadly. 

262 


The  Sheriff  States  Some  Facts 

Helen  shot  him  a  warning  glance,  but  it  was  too 
late ;  Mary  suddenly  sat  bolt  upright,  her  expression 
one  of  shocked  surprise. 

"Helen  Shields!"  she  cried,  "and  I  never 
thought  of  it  before !  How  could  you  do  it !  Why, 
that  horrid  man  will  show  your  pin  and  boast  about 
it  to  everybody !  The  idea !  I'm  surprised  at 
you !  " 

"  Tut,  tut,"  exclaimed  Shields.  "  I  reckon  that 
pin  is  all  right.  He  might  find  it  handy  some  day 
to  return  it,  it'll  be  a  good  excuse  when  he  gets  on 
his  feet.  And  I'd  hate  to  be  the  man  to  laugh  at 
it,  or  try  to  take  it  from  him.  Now,  come,  Mary, 
think  of  it  right;  it  was  the  first  kind  act  he  had 
known  since  he  lost  his  daddy.  And  that  pin  is  one 
of  my  main  stand-bys  in  this  game.  I  believe  that 
he'll  be  square  as  long  as  he  has  it." 

"  Well,  I  don't  care,  James,"  warmly  responded 
Mary.  "  It  was  not  a  modest  thing  to  do  when  she 
had  never  seen  him  before,  and  he  her  brother's 
enemy  and  an  outlaw !  " 

"  How  could  I  have  fastened  the  bandage,  sister 
dear?  "  asked  Helen,  her  complexion  slightly  more 
colored  than  its  natural  shade.  "  It  was  so  very 
little  to  do  after  all  he  had  done  for  us !  " 

263 


The   Orphan 


"  Well,  Tom  and  I  have  some  business  to  talk 
over,  so  we'll  leave  you  to  fight  the  matter  out 
among  yourselves,'*  the  sheriff  said,  arising. 
"  Come  to  my  room,  Tom,  I  want  to  talk  over  that 
ranch  scheme  with  you.  You  bring  the  coffee  pot 
and  the  cigars  and  I'll  juggle  the  pie  and  ginger 
bread,"  he  laughed  as  he  led  the  way. 

"  Oh,  Tom !  "  hastily  called  Mrs.  Shields  after 
good-nights  had  been  said,  and  just  before  the 
door  closed;  "  I  promised  you  a  dinner  for  your 
boys  when  Helen  and  Mary  came,  and  if  you  think 
you  can  spare  them  this  coming  Sunday  I  will  have 
it  then." 

"  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Shields,"  earnestly  responded 
Blake,  turning  on  the  threshold.  "  It  is  awful  good 
of  you  to  put  yourself  out  that  way,  and  you  can 
bet  that  the  boys  will  be  your  devoted  slaves  ever 
after.  If  you  must  go  to  that  trouble,  why,  Sunday 
or  any  day  you  may  name  will  do  for  us.  Gosh, 
but  won't  they  be  tickled!  "  he  exulted  as  he  pic 
tured  them  feasting  on  goodies.  "  It'll  be  better 
than  a  circus,  it  shore  will !  " 

"  Why,  it's  no  trouble  at  all,  Tom,"  she  replied, 
smiling  at  being  able  to  bring  cheer  to  a  crowd  of 
men,  lonely,  as  she  thought.  "  And  you  will  ar- 

264 


The  Sheriff  States  Some  Facts 

range  to  have  The  Orphan  with  them,  won't 
you?" 

"  I  most  certainly  will,"  he  heartily  replied. 
"  It'll  do  wonders  for  him."  He  glanced  quickly 
at  Helen,  but  she  was  busily  engaged  in  threading 
a  needle  under  the  lamp  shade. 

"  Good  night,  all,"  he  said  as  he  closed  the  door. 


265 


CHAPTER    XV 

AN  UNDERSTANDING 

BLAKE  settled  himself  in  the  easy  chair  which 
his  host  pushed  over  to  him  and  crossed  his 
feet  on  the  seat  of  another,  and  became  the 
personification  of  contentment.  One  of  the  black 
Perfectos  which  a  friend  in  the  East  kept  Shields 
supplied  with,  was  tenderly  nursed  by  his  lips,  its 
fragrant  smoke  slowly  issuing  from  his  nose  and 
mouth,  yielding  its  delights  to  a  man  who  knew  a 
good  cigar  when  he  smoked  it,  and  who  knew  how 
to  smoke  it.  At  his  elbow  stood  a  coffee  pot,  flanked 
on  one  side  by  a  plate  piled  high  with  gingerbread; 
on  the  other  by  an  apricot  pie.  His  eyes  half- 
closed  and  his  arms  were  folded,  and  a  great  peace 
stole  over  him.  He  had  the  philosopher's  mind 
which  so  readily  yields  to  the  magic  touch  of  a 
perfect  cigar.  In  that  short  space  of  time  he  was 
recompensed  for  a  life  of  hardships,  perils  and  but 
few  pleasures. 

266 


An    Understanding 


They  sat  each  lost  in  his  own  thoughts,  in  a 
silence  broken  only  by  the  very  low  and  indistinct 
hum  of  women's  voices  and  the  loud  ticking  of  the 
clock,  which  soon  struck  ten.  The  foreman  sighed, 
stirred  to  knock  the  ashes  from  his  cigar,  and  then 
slowly  reached  his  hand  toward  the  pie.  Shields 
came  to  himself  and  very  gravely  relighted  his  cigar, 
watching  the  blue  smoke  stream  up  over  the  lamp. 
He  looked  at  his  contented  friend  for  a  few  seconds 
and  then  broke  the  silence. 

"  Tom,"  he  said,  "  what  I'm  going  to  tell  you 
now  is  all  meat.  I  couldn't  say  anything  about  it 
while  the  women  were  around,  for  they  shore  worry 
a  lot  and  there  wasn't  no  good  in  scaring  them. 

"  The  Cross  Bar-8  outfit  got  saddled  with  the 
idea  that  they  wanted  a  new  sheriff,  and  four  of 
them  didn't  care  a  whole  lot  how  they  made  the 
necessary  vacancy.  I  got  word  that  they  were  going 
to  pay  Bill  Rowland  for  the  part  he  played,  and 
on  the  face  of  it  there  wasn't  nothing  more  than 
that.  It  was  natural  enough  that  they  were  sore 
on  him,  and  that  they  would  try  to  square  matters. 
Well,  of  course,  I  couldn't  let  him  get  wiped  out 
and  I  took  cards  in  the  game.  But,  Lord,  it  wasn't 
what  I  reckoned  it  was  at  all.  He  was  in  for  his 

267 


The   Orphan 


licking,  all  right,  but  he  was  the  little  fish — and  / 
was  the  big  one. 

"  They  got  Bill  in  the  defile  of  the  Backbone  and 
were  going  to  lynch  him — they  beat  him  up  shame 
ful.  He  wouldn't  tell  them  that  I  was  hand-in- 
glove  with  The  Orphan,  which  they  wanted  to 
hear,  so  they  tried  to  scare  him  to  lie,  but  it  was 
no  go. 

"  Well,  I  followed  Bill  and,  to  make  it  short, 
that  is  just  what  they  had  figured  on.  They  posted 
an  outpost  to  get  the  drop  on  me  when  I  showed 
up,  and  he  got  it.  Tex  Williard  seemed  to  be  the 
officer  in  charge,  and  he  asked  me  questions  and 
suggested  things  that  made  me  fighting  mad  inside. 
But  I  was  as  cool  as  I  could  be  apparently,  for  it 
ain't  no  good  to  lose  your  temper  in  a  place  like  that. 
I  suppose  they  wanted  me  to  get  out  on  the  war 
path  so  they  could  frame  up  some  story  about  self- 
defense.  It  looked  bad  for  me,  with  three  of  them 
having  their  guns  on  me,  and  Tex  Williard  had 
just  given  me  an  ultimatum  and  had  counted  two, 

when,  d d  if  The  Orphan  didn't  take  a  hand 

from  up  on  the  wall  of  the  defile.  That  let  me  get 
my  guns  out,  and  the  rest  was  easy.  We  let  Bill 
get  square  on  the  gang  for  the  beating  he  had  got, 

268 


An   Understanding 


by  whipping  all  of  them  to  the  queen's  taste.  When 
they  got  so  they  could  stand  up  I  told  them  a  few 
things  and  ordered  them  out  of  the  country,  and 
they  were  blamed  glad  to  get  the  chance  to  go,  too. 

"  The  Orphan  didn't  have  to  mix  up  in  that,  not 
at  all,  and  it  makes  the  third  time  he's  put  his 
head  in  danger  to  help  me  or  mine,  and  he  took 
big  chances  every  time.  How  in  h — 1  can  I  help 
liking  him?  Can  I  be  blamed  for  treating  him 
white  and  square  when  he's  done  so  much  for  me? 
He  is  so  chock  full  of  grit  and  squareness  that 
I'll  throw  up  this  job  rather  than  to  go  out  after 
him  for  his  past  deeds,  and  I  mean  it,  too,  Tom." 

Blake  reached  for  another  piece  of  pie,  held  his 
hand  over  it  in  uncertainty  and  then,  changing  his 
mind,  took  gingerbread  for  a  change. 

"  Well,  I  reckon  you're  right,  Jim,"  he  replied. 
"  Anyhow,  it  don't  make  a  whole  lot  of  difference 
whether  you  are  or  not.  You're  the  sheriff  of  this 
layout,  and  you're  to  do  what  you  think  best,  and 
that's  the  idea  of  most  of  the  people  out  here,  too. 
If  you  want  to  experiment,  that's  your  business,  for 
you'll  be  the  first  to  get  bit  if  you're  wrong.  And 
it  ain't  necessary  to  tell  you  that  your  friends  will 
back  you  up  in  anything  you  try.  Personally,  I  am 

269 


The   Orphan 


rather  glad  of  what  you're  doing,  for  I  like  that 
man's  looks,  as  I  said  before,  and  he'll  be  just  the 
kind  of  a  puncher  I  want.  He's  a  man  that'll  fight 
like  h — 1  for  the  man  he  ties  up  to  and  who 
treats  him  square.  If  he  ain't,  I'm  getting  childish 
in  my  judgment." 

"  I  sent  him  to  you/'  the  sheriff  continued,  u  be 
cause  I  wanted  to  get  him  in  with  a  good  outfit  and 
under  a  man  who  would  be  fair  with  him.  I  knew 
that  you  would  give  him  every  chance  in  the  world. 
And  then  Helen  takes  such  an  interest  in  him,  being 
young  and  sympathetic  and  romantic,  that  I  wanted 
to  please  her  if  I  could,  and  I  can.  She'll  be  very 
much  pleased  now  that  I've  given  him  a  start  in 
the  right  direction  and  there  ain't  nothing  I  can  do 
for  her  that  is  not  going  to  be  done.  She's  a  blamed 
fine  girl,  Tom,  as  nice  a  girl  as  ever  lived." 

"  She  shore  is — there  ain't  no  doubt  about 
that!"  cried  the  foreman,  and  then  he  frowned 
slightly.  "  But  have  you  thought  of  what  all  this 
might  develop  into?"  he  asked,  leaning  forward 
in  his  earnestness.  u  It's  shore  funny  how  I  should 
think  of  such  a  thing,  for  it  ain't  in  my  line  at  all, 
but  the  idea  just  sort  of  blew  into  my  head." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 
270 


An    Understanding 


"  Well,  Helen,  being  young  and  sympathetic  and 
romantic,  as  you  said,  and  owing  her  own  life  and 
the  lives  of  her  sister  and  friend,  not  to  mention 
yours,  to  him,  might  just  go  and  fall  in  love  with 
him,  and  I  reckon  that  if  she  did,  she  would  stick 
to  him  in  spite  of  hell.  He's  a  blamed  good-looking, 
attractive  fellow,  full  of  energy  and  grit,  somewhat 
of  a  mystery,  and  women  are  strong  on  mysteries, 
and  he  might  nurse  ideas  about  having  some  one  to 
make  gingerbread  and  apricot  pie  for  him;  and  if 
he  does,  as  shore  as  God  made  little  apples,  it'll 
be  Helen  that  he'll  want.  He's  never  seen  as  pretty 
a  girl,  she's  been  kind  and  sympathetic  with  him, 
and  I'm  willing  to  bet  my  hat  that  he's  lost  a  bit 
of  sleep  about  her  already.  Good  Lord,  what  can 
you  expect  ?  She  pities  him,  and  what  do  the  books 
say  about  pity?  " 

The  sheriff  thought  for  a  minute  and  then  looked 
up  with  a  peculiar  light  in  his  eyes. 

"  For  a  bachelor  you're  doing  real  well,"  he 
said,  still  thinking  hard. 

"  Being  a  bachelor  don't  mean  that  I  ain't  never 
rubbed  elbows  with  women,"  replied  the  foreman. 
"  There  are  some  people  that  are  bachelors  because 
they  are  too  darned  smart  to  get  roped  and  branded 

271 


The   Orphan 


because  the  moon  happens  to  be  real  bright.  But 
I'll  confess  to  you  that  I  ain't  a  bachelor  because 
I  didn't  want  to  get  roped.  We  won't  say  any 
more  about  that,  however." 

"  Well,"  said  Shields,  slowly.  "  If  he  tries  to 
get  her  before  I  know  that  he  is  straight  and  clean 
and  good  enough  for  her,  I'll  just  have  to  stop  him 
any  way  I  can.  First  of  all,  I'm  looking  out  for 
my  sister,  the  h — 1  with  anybody  else.  But  on 
the  other  hand,  if  he  makes  good  and  wants  her  bad 
enough  to  rustle  for  two  and  she  has  her  mind 
made  up  that  she'd  rather  have  him  than  stay  single 
and  is  head  over  heels  in  love  with  him,  I  don't  see 
that  there's  anything  to  worry  about.  I  tell  you 
that  he  is  a  good  man,  a  real  man,  and  if  he  changes 

like  I  want  him  to,  she  would  be  a  d d  sight 

better  off  with  him  than  with  some  dudish  tender 
foot  in  love  with  money.  He  has  had  such  a  God 
forsaken  life  that  he  will  be  able  to  appreciate  a 
change  like  that — he  would  be  square  as  a  brick  with 
her  and  attentive  and  loyal — and  with  him  she 
wouldn't  run  much  chance  of  being  left  a  widow. 
Why,  I'll  b'et  he'll  worship  the  ground  she  walks 
on — she  could  wind  him  all  around  her  little  finger 
and  he'd  never  peep.  And  she  would  have  the  best 

272 


An    Understanding 


protection  that  walks  around  these  parts.  But, 
pshaw,  all  this  is  too  far  ahead  of  the  game.  How 
about  that  herd  of  cattle  you  spoke  of?  " 

"  I  can  get  you  the  whole  herd  dirt  cheap," 
replied  the  foreman.  "  And  they  are  as  hungry  and 
healthy  a  lot  as  you  could  wish." 

"  Well,"  responded  the  sheriff,  "  I've  made  up 
my  mind  to  go  ranching  again.  I  can't  stand  this 
loafing,  for  it  don't  amount  to  much  more  than  that 
now  that  The  Orphan  has  graduated  out  of  the  out 
law  class.  I  can  run  a  ranch  and  have  plenty  of 
time  to  attend  to  the  sheriff  part  of  it,  too.  Ever 
since  I  sold  the  Three-S  I  have  been  like  a  fish  out  of 
water.  When  I  got  rid  of  it  I  put  the  money  away 
in  Kansas  City,  thinking  that  I  might  want  to  go 
back  at  it  again.  Then  I  got  rid  of  that  mine  and 
bunked  the  money  with  the  ranch  money.  The 
interest  has  been  accumulating  for  a  long  time  now 
and  I  have  got  something  over  thirty  thousand 
lying  idle.  Now,  I'm  going  to  put  it  to  work. 

"  I  ran  across  Crawford  last  week,  and  he  is 
dead  anxious  to  sell  out  and  go  back  East — he  don't 
like  the  West.  I've  determined  to  take  the  A-Y 
off  his  hands,  for  it's  a  good  ranch,  has  good  build 
ings  on  it,  two  fine  windmills  over  driven  wells, 

273 


The   Orphan 


good  grass  and  shelters.  Why,  he  has  put  up  shel 
ters  in  Long  Valley  that  can't  be  duplicated  under 
a  thousand  dollars.  His  terms  are  good — five  thou 
sand  down  and  the  balance  in  installments  of  two 
thousand  a  year  at  three  per  cent.,  and  I  can  get 
over  three  per  cent,  while  it  is  lying  waiting  to  be 
paid  to  him.  He  is  too  blamed  sick  of  his  white 
elephant  to  haggle  over  terms.  He  was  foolish 
to  try  to  run  it  himself  and  to  sink  so  much  money 
in  driven  wells,  windmills  and  buildings — it  would 
astonish  you  to  know  how  much  money  he  spent  in 
paint  alone.  What  did  he  know  about  ranching, 
anyhow?  He  can't  hardly  tell  a  cow  from  a  heifer. 
He  said  that  he  knew  how  to  make  money  earn 
money  in  the  East,  but  that  he  couldn't  make  a  cent 
raising  cows. 

"  If  The  Orphan  attends  to  his  new  deal  I'll  put 
him  in  charge  and  the  rest  lies  with  him.  I'll  pro 
vide  him  with  a  good  outfit,  everything  he  needs 
and,  if  he  makes  good  and  the  ranch  pays,  I'll  fix 
it  so  he  can  own  a  half-interest  in  it  at  less  than  it 
cost  me,  and  that  will  give  him  a  good  job  to  hold 
down  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  It'll  be  something 
for  him  to  tie  to  in  case  of  squalls,  but  there  ain't 
much  danger  of  his  becoming  unsteady,  because  if 

274 


An    Understanding 


he  was  at  all  inclined  to  that  sort  of  thing  he  would 
be  dead  now. 

"  This  ain't  no  fly-away  notion,  as  you  know. 
I've  had  an  itching  for  a  good  ranch  for  several 
years,  and  for  just  about  that  length  of  time  I've 
had  my  eyes  on  the  A-Y.  I  was  going  to  buy  it 
when  Crawford  gobbled  it  up  at  that  fancy  price 
and  I  felt  a  little  put  out  when  he  took  up  his  option 
on  it,  but  I'm  glad  he  did,  now.  Why,  Reeves  sold 
out  to  Crawford  for  almost  three  times  what  I  am 
going  to  pay  for  it,  and  it  has  been  improved  fifty 
per  cent,  since  he  has  had  it.  But,  of  course,  there 
was  more  cattle  then  than  there  is  now.  You  get 
me  that  herd  at  a  good  figure  and  I'll  be  able  to 
take  care  of  them  very  soon  now,  just  as  soon  as 
I  close  the  deal.  But,  mind  you,  no  Texas  cattle 
goes — I  don't  want  any  Spanish  fever  in  mine. 

"  I'm  thinking  some  of  putting  Charley  in  charge 
temporarily,  just  as  soon  as  Sneed  gets  some  men, 
and  when  The  Orphan  takes  it  over  things  will  be 
in  purty  fair  shape.  I  won't  move  out  there  be 
cause  my  wife  don't  like  ranching — she  wants  to 
be  in  town  where  she  is  near  somebody,  but  I'll 
spend  most  of  my  time  out  there  until  everything 
gets  in  running  order.  Oh,  yes — in  consideration 

275 


The   Orphan 


of  the  five  thousand  down  at  the  time  the  papers 
are  signed,  Crawford  has  agreed  to  leave  the  ranch- 
house  furnished  practically  as  it  is,  and  that  will  be 
nice  for  Helen  and  The  Orphan  if  they  ever  should 
decide  to  join  hands  in  double  blessedness.  You 
used  to  have  a  lot  of  fun  about  the  high-faluting 
fixings  in  your  ranch-house,  but  just  wait  'til  you 
see  this  one !  An  inside  look  around  will  open  your 
eyes  some,  all  right.  It  is  a  wonder,  a  real  wonder ! 
Running  water  from  the  wind-mills,  a  bath-room, 
sinks  in  the  kitchen,  a  wood-burning  boiler  in  the 
cellar,  and  all  the  comforts  possible.  If  Crawford 
tries  to  move  all  that  stuff  back  East  it  would  cost 
him  more  than  he  could  get  for  it,  and  he  knows 
it,  too.  It's  a  bargain  at  twice  the  price,  and  I'm 
going  to  nail  it.  I  can't  think  of  anything  else." 
"  Well,"  replied  Blake,  "  I  don't  see  how  you 
could  do  anything  better,  that's  sure.  It  all  depends 
on  the  price,  and  if  you're  satisfied  with  that,  there 
ain't  no  use  of  turning  it  down.  I  know  you  can 
make  money  out  there  with  any  kind  of  attention, 
for  I'm  purty  well  acquainted  with  the  A-Y.  And 
I'll  see  about  the  cattle  next  week,  but  you  better 
leave  The  Orphan  stay  with  me  a  while  longer. 
My  boys  are  the  best  crowd  that  ever  lived  in  a 

276 


An    Understanding 


bunk-house,  and  if  he  minds  his  business  they'll 
smooth  down  his  corners  until  you  won't  hardly 
know  him;  and  they'll  teach  him  a  little  about  the 
cow-puncher  game  if  he's  rusty. 

"  You  remember  the  time  we  had  that  killing 
out  there,  don't  you?  "  Blake  asked.  "  Well,  you 
also  remember  that  we  agreed  to  cut  out  all  gun 
play  on  the  ranch  in  the  future,  and  that  I  sent 
East  for  some  boxing  gloves,  which  were  to  be  used 
in  case  anybody  wanted  to  settle  any  trouble.  They 
have  been  out  there  for  two  years  now,  and  haven't 
been  used  except  in  fun.  Give  the  boys  a  chance 
and  they'll  cure  him  of  the  itching  trigger-finger, 
all  right.  They're  only  a  lot  of  big-hearted,  over 
grown  kids,  and  they  can  get  along  with  the  devil 
himself  if  he'll  let  them.  But  they  are  hell-fire 
and  brimstone  when  aroused,"  then  he  laughed 
softly:  "  They  heard  about  your  trouble  with  Sneed 
and  they  shore  was  dead  anxious  to  call  on  the  Cross 
Bar-8  and  make  a  few  remarks  about  long  life 
and  happiness,  but  I  made  them  wait  'til  they  should 
be  sent  for. 

"  They  know  all  about  The  Orphan — that  is, 
as  much  as  I  did  before  I  called  to-night.  Joe 
Haines  is  a  great  listener  and  when  he  rustles  our 

277 


T h e   Orphan 


mail  once  a  week  he  takes  it  all  in,  so  of  course 
they  know  all  about  it.  They  had  a  lot  of  fun 
about  the  way  he  made  the  Cross  Bar-8  sit  up  and 
take  notice,  for  they  ain't  wasting  any  love  on 
Sneed's  crowd.  And  it  took  Bill  Howland  over 
an  hour  to  tell  Joe  about  his  experiences.  So  when 
The  Orphan  met  the  outfit  they  knew  him  to  be  the 
man  who  had  saved  the  sheriff's  sisters,  which  went 
a  long  way  with  them.  Say,  Jim,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  can  I  tell  them  what  you  said  about  him  to-night? 
Let  me  tell  them  everything,  for  it'll  go  far  with 
them,  especially  with  Silent,  who  had  some  trouble 
with  the  U-B  about  five  years  ago.  He  was  taking 
a  herd  of  about  three  thousand  head  across  their 
range  and  he  swears  yet  at  the  treatment  he  got. 
Yes?  All  right,  it'll  make  him  solid  with  the 
outfit" 

41  Tell  them  anything  you  want  about  him,"  said 
the  sheriff,  "  but  don't  say  anything  about  the  A-Y. 
I  want  to  keep  it  quiet  for  a  while." 

Shields  poured  himself  a  cup  of  coffee  and  then 
glanced  at  the  clock:  "  Too  late  for  a  game, 
Tom?  "  he  asked,  expectantly. 

The  foreman  laughed:  "  It's  seldom  too  late  for 
that,"  he  replied. 

278 


An    Understanding 


"  Good  enough!  "  cried  his  host.  "  What  shall 
it  be  this  time — pinochle  or  crib?  " 

The  foreman  slowly  closed  his  eyes  as  he  replied : 
"  Either  suits  me — this  feed  has  made  me  plumb 
easy  to  please.  Why,  I'd  even  play  casino  to 
night!" 

"Well,  what  do  you  say  to  crib?"  asked  the 
sheriff.  "  You  licked  me  so  bad  at  it  the  last  time 
you  were  here  that  I  hanker  to  get  revenge." 

"  Well,  I  don't  blame  you  for  wanting  to  get 
it,  but  I'll  tell  you  right  now  that  you  won't,  for  I 
can  lick  the  man  that  invented  crib  to-night," 
laughed  the  foreman.  "  Bring  out  your  cards." 

Shields  placed  the  cards  on  the  table  and 
arranged  things  where  they  would  be  handy  while 
his  friend  shuffled  the  pack. 

The  foreman  pushed  the  cards  toward  his  host : 
"  There  you  are — low  deals  as  usual,  I  suppose." 

"  Oh,  you  might  as  well  go  ahead  and  deal," 
grumbled  the  sheriff  good-naturedly.  "  I  don't 
remember  ever  cutting  low  enough  for  you — by 
George!  A  five!" 

Blake  picked  up  the  cards  and  started  to  deal, 
but  the  sheriff  stopped  him. 

"Hey!  You  haven't  cut  yet!"  Shields  cried, 
279 


The   Orphan 


putting  his  hand  on  the  cards.     "  What  are  you 
doing,  anyhow?  " 

Blake  laughed  with  delight:  "Well,  anybody 
that  can't  cut  lower  than  a  five  hadn't  ought  to 
play  the  game.  What's  the  use  of  wasting  time?  " 

"  Well,  you  never  mind  about  the  time — you 
go  ahead  and  beat  me,"  cried  the  sheriff.  "  Of  all 
the  nerve !  " 

Blake  picked  up  the  cards  again :  "  Do  you  want 
to  cut  again?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it !    That  five  stands !  " 

"  Well,  how  would  a  four  do?  "  asked  the  fore 
man,  lifting  his  hand.  "  It's  a  three!  "  he  exulted. 
"  All  that  time  wasted,"  he  said. 

"  You  go  to  blazes,"  pleasantly  replied  the  sher 
iff  as  he  sorted  his  hand.  "  This  ain't  so  bad  for 
you,  not  at  all  bad;  you  could  have  done  worse, 
but  I  doubt  it."  He  discarded,  cut,  and  Blake 
turned  a  six. 

"  Seven,"  called  Shields  as  he  played. 

"  Seventeen,"  replied  Blake,  playing  a  queen. 

"  No  you  don't,  either,"  grinned  the  sheriff. 
"  You  can  play  that  four  later  if  you  want  to,  but 
not  now  on  twenty-seven.  Call  it  twenty-five,"  he 
said,  playing  an  eight. 

280 


An    Understanding 


Blake  carefully  scanned  his  hand  and  finally 
played  the  four,  grumbling  a  little  as  his  friend 
laughed. 

"  Thirty-one — first  blood,"  remarked  the  sheriff, 
dropping  the  deuce. 

While  he  pegged  his  points  Blake  suddenly 
laughed. 

"  Say,  Jim,"  he  said,  "  before  I  forget  it  I  want 
to  tell  you  a  joke  on  Humble.  He  thought  it  would 
be  easy  money  if  he  taught  Lee  Lung  how  to  play 
poker.  He  bothered  Lee's  life  out  of  him  for  sev 
eral  days,  and  finally  the  Chinaman  consented  to 
learn  the  great  American  game." 

Blake  played  a  six  and  the  sheriff  scored  two 
by  pairing,  whereupon  his  opponent  made  it  threes 
for  six,  and  took  a  point  for  the  last  card. 

"  As  I  was  saying,  Humble  wanted  the  cook  to 
learn  poker.  Lee's  face  was  as  blank  as  a  cow's, 
and  Humble  had  to  explain  everything  several 
times  before  the  cook  seemed  to  understand  what 
he  was  driving  at.  Anybody  would  have  thought 
he  had  been  brought  up  in  a  monastery  and  that  he 
didn't  know  a  card  from  an  army  mule." 

Blake  pegged  his  seven  points  and  picked  up  his 
cards  without  breaking  the  story. 

281 


The   Orphan 


"  But  Lee  had  awful  luck,  and  in  half  an  hour 
he  owned  half  of  Humble's  next  month's  pay. 
Now,  every  time  he  gets  a  chance  he  shows  Humble 
the  cards  and  asks  for  a  game.  '  Nicee  game, 
ploker,  nicee  game,'  he'll  say.  What  Humble  says 
is  pertinent,  profane  and  permeating.  Then  the 
boys  guy  him  to  a  finish.  He'll  be  wanting  to 
teach  Lee  how  to  play  fan-tan  some  day,  so  the 
boys  say.  Lee  must  have  graduated  in  poker  be 
fore  Humble  ever  heard  of  the  game." 

Shields  laughed  heartily  and  swiftly  ran  over 
his  cards. 

"  Fifteen  two,  four,  six,  a  pair  is  eight,  and  a 
double  run  of  three  is  fourteen.  Real  good,"  he 
said  as  he  pegged.  "  Passed  the  crack  that  time. 
What  have  you  got?  " 

The  foreman  put  his  cards  down,  found  three 
sixes  and  then  turned  the  crib  face  up.  "  Pair  of 
tens  and  His  Highness,"  he  grumbled.  "  Only 
three  in  that  crib!  " 

"  That's  what  you  get  for  cutting  a  three," 
laughed  the  sheriff. 

The  game  continued  until  the  striking  of  the 
clock  startled  the  guest. 

"  Midnight!  "  he  cried.  "  Thirty  miles  before 
282 


An    Understanding 


I  get  to  bed — no,  no,  I  can't  stay  with  you  to-night 
— much  obliged,  all  the  same." 

He  clapped  his  sombrero  on  his  head  and  started 
for  the  door:  "  Well,  better  luck  next  time,  Jim — 
three  twenty-four  hands  shore  did  make  a  differ 
ence.  Right  where  they  were  needed,  too.  So 
long." 

"  Sorry  you  won't  stay,  Tom,"  called  his  friend 
from  the  door  as  the  foreman  mounted.  "  You 
might  just  as  well,  you  know." 

"  I'm  sorry,  too,  but  I've  got  to  be  on  hand 
to-morrow — anyway,  it's  bright  moonlight — so 
long!  "  he  cried  as  he  cantered  away. 

"  Hey,  Tom !  "  cried  the  sheriff,  leaping  from 
the  porch  and  running  to  the  gate.  "  Tom !  " 

"  Hullo,  what  is  it?  "  asked  the  foreman,  draw 
ing  rein  and  returning. 

"  Smoke  this  on  your  way,  it'll  seem  shorter," 
said  the  sheriff,  holding  out  a  cigar. 

"  By  George,  I  will !  "  laughed  Blake.  "  That's 
fine,  you're  all  right  1  " 

u  Be  good,"  cried  the  sheriff,  watching  his  friend 
ride  down  the  street. 

"  Shore  enough  good — I  have  to  be,"  floated 
back  to  his  ears. 

283 


CHAPTER    XVI 

THE    FLYING-MARE 

THE  Sunday  morning  following  Blake's 
visit  to  Ford's  Station  found  the  Star  C 
in  excitement.  Notwithstanding  the  fact 
that  on  every  pleasant  night  after  the  day's  work 
had  been  done  it  was  the  custom  for  the  outfit  to 
indulge  in  a  swim,  and  that  Saturday  night  had 
been  very  pleasant,  the  Limping  Water  was  being 
violently  disturbed,  and  laughter  and  splashing 
greeted  the  sun  as  it  looked  over  the  rim  of  the 
bank.  Cakes  of  soap  glistened  on  the  sand  on  the 
west  bank  and  towels  hung  from  convenient  limbs 
of  the  bushes  which  fringed  the  creek. 

Silent,  who  was  noted  among  his  companions 
for  the  length  of  time  he  could  stay  under  water, 
challenged  them  to  a  submersion  test.  The  rules 
were  simple,  inasmuch  as  they  consisted  in  all 
plunging  under  at  the  same  time,  the  winner  being 
he  who  was  the  last  man  up.  Silent  had  stead- 

284 


The  Flying-Mare 


fastly  refused  to  have  his  endurance  timed,  which 
his  friends  mistook  for  modesty,  and  no  sooner 
had  all  "  ducked  under  "  than  his  head  popped 
up — but  this  time  he  was  not  alone.  Humble, 
whose  utmost  limit  was  not  over  half  a  minute, 
grew  angry  at  his  inability  to  make  a  good  show 
ing  and  craftily  determined  to  take  a  handicap. 
The  two  stared  at  each  other  for  a  space  and  then 
burst  into  laughter,  forgetting  for  the  time  being 
what  they  should  do.  Other  heads  bobbed  up, 
and  the  secret  was  out.  Only  that  Silent  was  the 
best  swimmer  in  the  crowd  saved  him  from  a 
ducking,  and  as  it  was  he  had  to  grab  his  clothes 
and  run. 

After  being  assured  that  he  was  forgiven  for 
his  trickery  he  rejoined  his  friends  and  his  towel. 

More  fun  was  now  the  rule,  for  dressing  re 
quired  care.  The  sandy  west  bank  sloped  gradu 
ally  to  the  water's  edge,  and  it  was  necessary  to 
stand  on  one  foot  on  a  small  stone  in  the  water 
while  the  other  was  dipped  to  remove  the  sand. 
Still  on  one  foot  the  other  must  be  dried,  the 
stocking  put  on,  then  the  trouser  leg  and  lastly 
the  boot,  and  woe  to  the  man  who  lost  his  balance 
and  splashed  stocking  and  trouser  leg  as  he  wildly 

285 


The   Orphan 


sought  to  save  it!  Humble  splashed  while  his 
foot  was  only  halfway  through  the  trouser  leg, 
and  The  Orphan  fared  even  worse.  Then  a  race 
of  awkward  runners  was  on  toward  the  bunk 
house,  where  breakfast  was  annihilated. 

"  Hey,  Tom,  what  time  do  we  leave?"  asked 
Bud  for  the  fifth  time. 

"  Nine  o'clock,  you  chump,"  replied  the  fore 
man. 

"  Three  whole  hours  yet,"  grumbled  Jim  as  he 
again  plastered  his  hair  to  his  head. 

"  I'll  lose  my  appetite  shore,"  worried  Humble. 
"  We  got  up  too  blamed  early,  that's  what 
we  did." 

"  Why,  here's  Humble !  "  cried  Silent  in  mock 
surprise.  u  Do  you  like  apricot  pie,  and  ginger 
bread  and  real  coffee?  " 

"  You  go  to  the  devil,"  grumbled  Humble. 
"  You  wouldn't  'a*  been  asked  at  all,  only  she 
couldn't  very  well  cut  you  out  of  it  when  she  asked 
me  along.  7'm  the  one  she  really  wants  to  feed; 
you  fellers  just  happen  to  tag  on  behind,  that's  all." 

"  Going  to  take  Lightning  with  you,  Humble?  " 
asked  Docile,  winking  at  the  others. 

"  Why,  I  shore  am,"  replied  Humble  in  sur- 
286 


The  Flying-Mare 


prise.  "  Do  you  reckon  I'd  leave  him  and  that 
d d  Chink  all  alone  together,  you  sheep?  " 

"  I  was  afraid  you  wouldn't,"  pessimistically 
grumbled  Docile,  but  here  he  smiled  hopefully. 
"  Suppose  you  take  Lee  Lung  and  leave  the  dog 
here?  "  he  queried. 

"  Suppose  you  quit  supposing  with  your  feet!  " 
sarcastically  countered  Humble.  "  I  know  you 
ain't  got  much  brains,  but  you  might  exercise  what 
little  you  have  got  once  in  a  while.  It  won't  hurt 
you  none  after  you  get  used  to  it." 

"  How  are  you  going  to  carry  him,  Humble — 
like  a  papoose?"  queried  Joe  with  a  great  show 
of  interest. 

Humble  stared  at  him:  uHuh!  "  he  muttered, 
being  too  much  astonished  to  say  more. 

"  I  asked  you  how  you  are  going  to  carry  your 
fighting  wolfhound,"  Joe  said  without  the  quiver 
of  an  eyelash.  "  I  thought  mebby  you  was  going 
to  sling  him  on  your  back  like  a  papoose." 

"  Carry  him!  Papoose!"  ejaculated  Humble 
in  withering  irony.  "  What  do  you  reckon  his 
legs  are  for?  He  ain't  no  statue,  he  ain't  no  orna 
ment,  he's  a  dog." 

"  Well,  I  knowed  he  ain't  no  ornament,  but  I 
287 


The   Orphan 


wasn't  shore  about  the  rest  of  it,"  responded  Joe. 
"  I  only  wanted  to  know  how  he'd  get  to  town. 
There  ain't  no  crime  in  asking  about  that,  is  there? 
I  know  he  can't  follow  the  gait  we'll  hit  up  for 
thirty  miles,  so  I  just  naturally  asked,  sabe?  " 

"  Oh,  you  did,  did  you !  "  cried  Humble,  not  at 
all  humbly.  "  He  can't  follow  us,  can't  he?  "  he 
yelled  belligerently. 

"  He  shore  can't,  cross  my  heart,"  asserted 
Silent  in  great  earnestness.  "  If  he  runs  to  Ford's 
Station  after  us  and  gets  there  inside  of  two  days 
I'll  buy  him  a  collar.  That  goes." 

"  Huh!  "  snorted  Humble  in  disgust,  "  he  won't 
wear  your  old  collar  after  he  wins  it.  He's  got 
too  much  pride  to  wear  anything  you'll  give  him." 

"  He  couldn't,  you  mean,"  jabbed  Jim.  "  He's 
so  plumb  tender  that  it  would  strain  his  back  to 
carry  it.  Why,  he  has  to  sit  down  and  rest  if 
more'n  two  flies  get  on  the  same  spot  at  once." 

"  He  can't  wag  his  tail  more'n  three  times  in  an 
hour,"  added  Bud,  "  and  when  he  scratches  his- 
self  he  has  to  rest  for  the  remainder  of  the  day." 

Humble  turned  to  The  Orphan  in  an  appealing 

way:  "  Did  you  ever  see  so  many  d d  fools  all 

at  once?  "  he  beseeched. 

288 


The  Flying-Mare 


The  Orphan  placed  his  finger  to  his  chin  and 
thought  for  fully  half  a  minute  before  replying: 
"  I  was  just  figuring,"  he  explained  in  apology  for 
his  abstraction.  Then  his  face  brightened:  "  You 
can  tie  him  up  in  a  blanket — that's  the  best  way. 
Yes,  sir,  tie  him  up  in  a  blanket  and  sling  him  at 
the  pommel.  We'll  take  turns  carrying  him." 

"Purple  h— 1!"  yelled  Humble.  "You're 
another !  The  whole  crowd  are  a  lot  of !  " 

"  Sing  it,  Humble,"  suggested  Tad,  laughing. 
"Sing  it!" 

"  Whistle  some  of  it,  and  send  the  rest  by  mail," 
assisted  Jack  Lawson. 

"Seen  th'  dlog?"  came  a  bland,  monotonous 
voice  from  the  doorway,  where  Lee  Lung  stood 
holding  a  chunk  of  beef  in  one  hand,  while  his 
other  hand  was  hidden  behind  his  back.  Over  his 
left  shoulder  projected  half  a  foot  of  club,  which  he 
thought  concealed.  "Seen  th'  dlog?"  he  repeated, 
smiling. 

"  Miss  Mirandy  and  holy  hell!  "  shouted  Hum 
ble,  leaping  forward  at  sight  of  the  club.  There 
was  a  swish!  and  Humble  rebounded  from  the 
door,  at  which  he  stared.  From  the  rear  of  the 
house  came  more  monotonous  words:  "  Nice  dlog- 

289 


The   Orphan 


gie.  Pletty  Lightling.  Here  come.  Gette  glub," 
and  Humble  galloped  around  the  corner  of  the 
house,  swearing  at  every  jump. 

When  the  laughter  had  died  down  Blake  smiled 
grimly:  "Some  day  Lee  will  get  that  dog,  and 
when  he  does  he'll  get  him  good  and  hard.  Then 
we'll  have  to  get  another  cook.  I've  told  him  fifty 
times  if  I've  told  him  once  not  to  let  it  go  past  a 
joke,  but  it's  no  use." 

"  He  won't  hurt  the  cur,  he's  only  stringing 
Humble,"  said  Bud.  "  Nobody  would  hurt  a  dog 
that  minded  his  own  business." 

"  If  anybody  hit  a  dog  of  mine  for  no  cause,  he 
wouldn't  do  it  again  unless  he  got  me  first,"  quietly 
remarked  The  Orphan. 

Jim  hastily  pointed  to  the  corner  of  the  house 
where  a  club  projected  into  sight:  "There's  Lee 
now !  "  he  whispered  hurriedly.  "  He's  laying  for 
him !  " 

There  was  a  sudden  spurt  of  flame  and  smoke 
and  the  club  flew  several  yards,  struck  by  three 
bullets.  Humble  hopped  around  the  corner  hold 
ing  his  hand,  his  words  too  profane  for  repe 
tition. 

Smoke  filtered  from  The  Orphan's  holster  and 
290 


The  Flying-Mare 


eyes  opened  wide  in  surprise  at  the  wonderful 
quickness  of  his  gunplay,  for  no  one  had  seen  it. 
All  there  was  was  smoke. 

"  Good  God!  "  breathed  Blake,  staring  at  the 
marksman,  who  had  stepped  forward  and  was 
explaining  to  Humble.  "  It's  a  good  thing  Shields 
was  square !  "  he  muttered. 

"  Did  you  see  that?  "  asked  Bud  of  Jim  in 
whispered  awe.  "  And  I  thought  /  was  some 
beans  with  a  six-shooter!  " 

"  No,  but  I  heard  it — was  they  one  or  six?  " 
replied  Jim. 

"  I  didn't  know  it  was  you,  Humble,"  explained 
The  Orphan.  "  I  thought  it  was  the  Chink  laying 
for  the  dog." 

" !   Good  for  you !  "  cried  Humble  in 

sudden  friendliness.  "  You're  all  right,  Orphant, 
but  will  you  be  sure  next  time?  That  stung  like 
blazes,"  he  said  as  he  held  out  his  hand.  "  I  can 
always  tell  a  white  man  by  the  way  he  treats  a 
dog.  If  all  men  were  as  good  as  dogs  this  world 
would  be  a  blamed  sight  nicer  place  to  live  in,  and 
don't  you  forget  it." 

"  Still  going  to  take  Lightning  with  you,  Hum 
ble?  "  asked  Bud. 

291 


The    Orphan 


"  No,  I  ain't  going  to  take  Lightning  with  me!  " 
snapped  Humble.  "  I'm  going  to  leave  him  right 
here  on  the  ranch,"  here  his  voice  arose  to  a  roar, 
"  and  if  any  sing-song,  rope-haired,  animated  hash- 
wrastler  gets  gay  while  I'm  gone,  I'll  send  him  to 
his  heathen  hell!" 

"  Come  on,  boys,"  said  Blake,  snapping  his 
watch  shut.  "  Time  to  get  going." 

"Glory  be!"  exulted  Silent,  executing  a  few 
fancy  steps  toward  the  corral,  his  companions  close 
behind,  with  the  exception  of  The  Orphan,  who 
had  gone  into  the  bunk  house  for  a  minute. 

As  they  whooped  their  way  toward  the  town 
Blake  noticed  that  a  gold  pin  glittered  at  the  knot 
of  the  new  recruit's  neck-kerchief,  and  he  chuckled 
when  he  recalled  the  warning  he  had  given  to  the 
sheriff.  He  shrewdly  guessed  that  the  apricot  pie 
and  the  rest  of  the  feast  were  quite  subordinated 
by  The  Orphan  to  the  girl  who  had  given  him 
the  pin. 

Bud  suddenly  turned  in  his  saddle  and  pointed 
to  a  jackrabbit  which  bounded  away  across  the 
plain  like  an  animated  shadow. 

"  Now,  if  Humble's  bloodhound  was  only  here," 
he  said,  "  we  would  rope  that  jack  and  make  the 

292 


The  Flying-Mare 


cur  fight  it.    It  would  be  a  fine  fight,  all  right,"  he 
laughed. 

"  You  go  to  the  devil,"  grunted  Humble,  and 
he  started  ahead  at  full  speed.  "  Come  on !  " 
he  cried.  "  Come  on,  you  snails!"  and  a  race 
was  on. 

•  •  •  •  • 

The  citizens  of  Ford's  Station  saw  a  low-hang 
ing  cloud  of  dust  which  rolled  rapidly  up  from  the 
west  and  soon  a  hard-riding  crowd  of  cowboys,  in 
gala  attire,  galloped  down  the  main  street  of  the 
town.  They  slowed  to  a  canter  and  rode  abreast 
in  a  single  line,  the  arms  of  each  man  over  the 
shoulders  of  his  nearest  companions,  and  all  sang 
at  the  top  of  their  lungs.  On  the  right  end  rode 
Blake,  and  on  the  left  was  The  Orphan.  Bill 
Rowland  ran  out  into  the  street  and  spotted  his 
new  friend  immediately  and  swung  his  hat  and 
cheered  for  the  man  who  had  helped  him  out  of 
two  bad  holes.  The  Orphan  broke  from  the  line 
and  shook  hands  with  the  driver,  his  face  wreathed 
by  a  grin. 

"  You  old  son-of-a-gun !  "  cried  Bill,  delighted 
at  the  familiarity  from  so  noted  a  person  as  the 
former  outlaw.  "  How  are  you,  hey?  " 

293 


The   Orphan 


The  line  cried  warm  greeting  as  it  swung  around 
to  shake  his  hand,  and  the  driver's  chest  took  on 
several  inches  of  girth. 

"  Hullo,  Bill !  "  cried  Bud  with  a  laugh.  "  Seen 
your  old  friend  Tex  lately?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  replied  Bill.  "  I  saw  him  out  on 
Thirty-Mile  Stretch,  but  he  didn't  do  nothing  but 
swear.  He  didn't  want  no  more  run-ins  with  me, 
all  right,  and,  besides,  my  rifle  was  across  my 
knees.  He  said  as  how  he  was  going  to  come 
back  some  day  and  start  things  moving  about  this 
old  town,  and  I  told  him  to  begin  with  the  Star  C 
when  he  did.'* 

He  looked  across  the  street  and  waved  his  hand 
at  a  group  of  his  friends  who  were  looking  on. 
"  Come  on  over,  fellows,"  he  cried,  and  when  they 
had  done  so  he  turned  and  introduced  The  Orphan 
to  them. 

"This  ugly  cuss  here  is  Charley  Winter;  this 
slab-sided  curiosity  is  Tommy  Larkin,  and  here  is 
his  brother  Al;  Chet  Dare,  Duke  Irwin,  Frank 
Hicks,  Hoke  Jones,  Gus  Shaw  and  Roy  Purvis. 
All  good  fellows,  every  one  of  them,  and  all  friends 
of  the  sheriff.  Here  comes  Jed  Carr,  the  only 
man  in  the  whole  town  who  ain't  afraid  of  me 

294 


The  Flying-Mare 


since  I  licked  them  punchers  in  the  defile.  Hullo, 
Jed!  Shake  hands  with  the  man  who  played  h — 1 
with  the  Cross  Bar-8  and  the  Apaches." 

"  Glad  to  meet  you,  Orphan,"  remarked  Jed  as 
he  shook  hands.  "  Punching  for  the  Star  C,  eh? 
Good  crowd,  most  of  them,  as  they  run,  though 
Humble  ain't  very  much." 

"He  ain't,  ain't  he?"  grinned  that  puncher. 
"  You're  some  sore  about  that  day  when  I  cleaned 
up  all  your  cush  at  poker,  ain't  you?  Ain't  had 
time  to  get  over  it,  have  you?  Want  to  borrow 
some?  " 

"  You  want  to  look  out  for  Humble,  Jed," 
bantered  Bud.  "  He's  taken  a  lesson  at  poker 
from  our  cook  since  he  played  you.  Didn't  you, 
Easy?  "  he  asked  Humble. 

The  roar  of  laughter  which  followed  Bud's 
words  forced  Humble  to  stand  treat:  "  Come  on 
over  and  have  something  with  the  only  man  in 
the  crowd  that's  got  any  money,"  he  said. 

When  they  had  lined  up  against  the  bar  jokes 
began  to  fly  thick  and  fast  and  The  Orphan  felt  a 
peculiar  elation  steal  over  him  as  he  slowly  puffed 
at  his  cigar.  Suddenly  the  door  flew  open  and 
Bill's  glass  dropped  from  his  hand. 

295 


Th e   Orphan 


"  Bucknell,  by  God !  And  as  drunk  as  a  fool !  " 
he  exclaimed. 

The  puncher  whom  The  Orphan  had  tied  up 
above  the  defile  leaned  against  the  door  frame 
and  his  gun  wavered  from  point  to  point  unstead 
ily  as  he  tried  to  peer  into  the  dim  interior  of  the 
room,  his  face  leering  as  he  sought,  with  a  courage 
born  of  drink,  for  the  man  who  had  made  a  fool 
of  him. 

A  bottle  crashed  against  the  wall  at  his  side,  and 
as  he  lurched  forward,  glancing  at  the  broken 
glass,  a  figure  leaped  to  meet  him  and  with  agile 
strength  grasped  his  right  wrist,  wheeled  and  got 
his  shoulder  under  Bucknell's  armpit,  took  two 
short  steps  and  straightened  up  with  a  jerk.  The 
intruder  left  the  floor  and  flew  headforemost 
through  the  air,  crashing  against  the  rear  wall, 
where  he  fell  to  the  floor  and  lay  quiet.  The 
Orphan,  having  foresworn  unnecessary  gunplay, 
and  always  scorning  to  shoot  a  drunken  man,  had 
executed  a  clever,  quick  flying-mare. 

As  the  sheriff  stepped  into  the  room  Blake  ran 
forward  and  lifted  Bucknell  to  his  feet,  supporting 
him  until  he  could  stand  alone.  The  puncher  was 
greatly  sobered  by  the  shock  and  blinked  con- 

296 


The  Flying-Mare 


fusedly  about  him.  The  Orphan  was  smoking 
nonchalantly  at  the  bar  and  Bill  had  just  given 
the  sheriff  the  victim's  gun. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  asked  Bucknell,  rubbing 
his  forehead,  which  was  cut  and  bruised. 

"  Nothing's  the  matter,  yet,"  answered  Shields 
shortly.  "  But  there  would  have  been  if  you  hadn't 
been  too  drunk  to  know  what  you  was  doing.  I 
saw  you  and  tried  to  get  here  first,  but  it's  all  right 
now.  Take  your  gun  and  get  out.  Here,"  he 
exclaimed,  "  you  promise  me  to  behave  yourself 
and  you  can  go  back  to  Sneed,  for  he  needs  you. 
Otherwise,  it's  out  of  the  country  after  Tex  for 
you.  Is  it  a  go?  " 

"  What  was  that,  and  who  done  it?"  asked 
Bucknell,  clinging  to  the  bar.  "  What  was  it?  " 
he  repeated. 

"  That  was  me  trying  to  throw  you  through  the 
wall,"  said  the  sheriff,  wishing  to  give  Bucknell  no 
greater  cause  for  animosity  against  The  Orphan, 
and  for  the  peace  of  the  community;  and  also 
because  he  wished  to  help  The  Orphan  to  refrain 
from  using  his  gun  in  the  future.  "  And  I'd  'a' 
done  it,  too,  only  my  hand  was  sweaty.  Will  you 
do  what  I  said?  "  he  asked. 

297 


The   Orphan 


Bucknell  straightened  up  and  staggered  past  the 
sheriff  to  where  The  Orphan  stood:  "You  done 
that,  but  it's  all  right,  ain't  it?  "  he  asked.  "  You 
ain't  sore,  are  you?  "  His  eyes  had  a  crafty  look, 
but  the  dimness  of  the  room  concealed  it,  and  The 
Orphan  did  not  notice  the  look. 

"  It's  all  right,  Bucknell,  and  I  ain't  sore,"  he 
replied.  "  I  won't  be  sore  if  you  do  what  the 
sheriff  wants  you  to."  » 

"  All  right,  all  right,"  replied  Bucknell.  "  Have 
a  drink  on  me,  boys.  It's  all  right  now,  ain't  it? 
Have  a  drink  on  me." 

"  No  more  drinking  to-day,"  quickly  said  the 
bartender  at  a  look  from  Shields.  u  All  the  good 
stuff  is  used  up  and  the  rest  ain't  fit  for  dogs,  let 
alone  my  friends.  Wait  'til  next  time,  when  I'll 
have  some  new." 

"That's   too   d :d  bad,"   replied   Bucknell, 

leering    at   the    crowd.      "  Have    a    smoke,    then. 
Come  on,  have  a  smoke  with  me." 

"  We  shore  will,  Bucknell,"  responded  Shields 
quickly. 

As  the  cowboy  started  for  the  door  the  sheriff 
placed  a  hand  on  his  shoulder:  "  You  behave  your 
self,  Bucknell,"  he  said.  "  So  long." 

298 


CHAPTER   XVII 

THE  FEAST 

JOYOUS  whoops,  loud  and  heartfelt,  brought 
the  women  to  the  door  of  the  sheriff's  house  in 
time  to  see  their  guests  dismount.  A  perfect 
babel  of  words  greeted  their  appearance  as  the 
cowboys  burst  into  a  running  fire  of  jokes,  salu 
tations  and  comments.  Even  the  ponies  seemed  to 
know  that  something  important  and  unusual  was 
taking  place,  for  they  cavorted  and  bit  and  squealed 
to  prove  that  they  were  in  accord  with  the  spirit  of 
their  riders  and  that  thirty  miles  in  less  than  three 
hours  had  not  subdued  them.  Bright  colors  pre 
vailed,  for  the  neck-kerchiefs  in  most  cases  were 
new  and  yet  showed  the  original  folding  creases, 
while  new,  clean  thongs  of  rawhide  and  glittering 
bits  of  metal  flashed  back  the  sunlight.  Spurs  glit 
tered  and  the  clean  looking  horses  appeared  to  have 
had  a  dip  in  the  Limping  Water.  Blake  had 
hunted  through  the  carpeted  rooms  of  his  ranch- 

299 


The  Orphan 


house  for  decorations,  and  in  the  drawer  of  a  table 
he  had  found  a  bunch  of  ribbons  of  many  kinds  and 
shades.  These  now  fluttered  from  the  pommels  of 
the  saddles  and  in  one  case  a  red  ribbon  was  twined 
about  the  leg  of  a  vicious  pinto,  and  the  pinto  was 
not  at  all  pleased  by  the  decoration. 

The  sheriff  led  the  way  to  the  house  closely 
followed  by  Blake,  the  others  coming  in  the  order 
of  their  nerve.  The  Orphan  was  last,  not  from 
lack  of  courage,  but  rather  because  of  strategy. 
He  thought  that  Helen  would  remain  at  the  door 
to  welcome  each  arrival  and  if  he  was  in  the  van 
he  would  be  passed  on  to  make  way  for  those 
behind  him.  Being  the  last  man  he  hoped  to  be 
able  to  say  more  to  her  than  a  few  words  of  greet 
ing.  As  he  mounted  the  steps  she  was  drawn  into 
the  room  for  something  and  he  stepped  to  one  side 
on  the  porch,  well  knowing  that  she  would  miss 
him. 

Bud  poked  his  head  out  the  door  and  started  to 
say  something,  but  The  Orphan  fiercely  whispered 
for  him  to  be  silent  and  to  disappear,  which  Bud 
did  after  grinning  exasperatingly. 

The  man  on  the  porch  was  growing  impatient 
when  he  heard  the  light  swish  of  skirts  around  the 

300 


The  Feast 


corner  of  the  house.  Sauntering  carelessly  to  the 
corner  he  looked  into  the  back-yard  and  saw  Helen 
with  a  tray  in  her  hands,  nearing  the  back  door. 
She  espied  him  and  stopped,  flushing  suddenly  as 
he  leaped  lightly  to  the  ground  and  walked  rapidly 
toward  her.  Her  cheeks  became  a  deeper  red  when 
he  stopped  before  her  and  took  the  tray,  for  his 
eyes  were  rebellious  and  would  not  be  subdued, 
and  the  first  thing  she  saw  was  the  gold  pin  which 
stood  out  boldly  against  the  dark  blue  neck- 
kerchief.  She  was  rarely  beautiful  in  her  white 
dress,  and  the  ribbon  which  she  wore  at  her  throat 
did  not  detract  in  its  effect.  Later  her  sister  was 
to  wonder  if  it  was  a  coincidence  that  the  ribbon 
and  his  neck-kerchief  were  so  good  a  match  in 
color. 

She  welcomed  him  graciously  and  he  felt  a  sud 
den  new  and  strangely  exhilarating  sensation  steal 
over  him  as  he  took  the  hand  she  held  out,  the  tray 
all  the  while  bobbing  recklessly  in  his  other  hand. 

a  Why  aren't  you  in  the  house  paying  your 
respects  to  your  hostess?"  she  chided  half  in  jest 
and  half  in  earnest. 

"  The  delay  will  but  add  to  my  fervor  when  I 
do,"  he  replied,  "  for  I  will  have  had  a  stimulus 

301 


The   Orphan 


then.  As  long  as  the  hostesses  are  four  and  insist 
on  not  being  together,  how  can  I  pay  my  respects 
all  at  once?  " 

u  But  there  is  only  one  hostess,"  she  laughingly 
corrected.  "  I  am  afraid  you  are  not  very  good  at 
making  excuses.  You  probably  never  felt  the  need 
to  make  them  before.  You  see,  I,  too,  am  only  a 
guest." 

"  We  two,"  he  corrected  daringly. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said,  leading 
away  from  plurals.  "  You  are  looking  very  well 
and  much  more  contented.  And  then,  this  is  ever 
so  much  nicer  than  our  first  meeting,  isn't  it?  No 
horrid  Apaches." 

"  I've  gotten  so  that  I  rather  like  Apaches,"  he 
replied.  "  They  are  so  useful  at  times.  But  you 
mustn't  try  to  tempt  me  to  subordinate  that  event 
ful  day,  not  yet.  It  can't  be  done,  although  I've 
never  tried  to  do  it,"  he  hastily  assured  her,  making 
a  gesture  of  helplessness.  "  Sometimes  an  unex 
pected  incident  will  change  the  habits  of  a  life 
time,  making  the  days  seem  brighter,  and  yet,  some 
how,  adding  a  touch  of  sadness.  I  have  been  a 
stranger  to  myself  since  then,  restless,  absent- 
minded,  moody  and  hungry  for  I  know  not  what." 

302 


The  Feast 


He  paused  and  then  slowly  continued,  "  I  must 
beg  to  remain  loyal  to  that  day  of  all  days  when 
you  bathed  an  outlaw's  head  and  showed  your 
love  for  fair  play  and  kindness." 

"  Goodness !  "  she  cried,  for  one  instant  meeting 
his  eager  eyes.  "  Why,  I  thought  it  was  a  terrible 
day!  And  you  really  think  differently?  " 

"  Very  much  so,"  he  assured  her  as  she  with 
drew  her  hand  from  his.  "  You  see,  it  was  such 
a  new  and  delightful  experience  to  save  a  stage 
coach  and  then  find  that  it  was  a  hospital  with  a 
wonderful  doctor.  I  accused  that  Apache  of  being 
stingy  with  his  lead,  for  he  might  just  as  well  have 
given  me  a  few  more  wounds  to  have  dressed." 

"  Yes,"  she  laughingly  retorted,"  it  was  almost 
as  new  an  experience  as  starting  on  a  long  and  sup 
posedly  peaceful  journey  and  suddenly  finding  one 
self  in  the  middle  of  a  desert  surrounded  by  dead 
Indians  and  doctoring  an  Indian  killer  who  was  at 
war  with  one's  brother.  And  that  after  a  terrible 
shaking  up  lasting  for  over  an  hour.  Truly  it  is  a 
day  to  be  remembered.  Now,  don't  you  think  you 
should  hurry  in  and  greet  my  sister-in-law?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  he  quickly  responded.  "  But 
before  I  lose  the  opportunity  I  must  ask  you  if  you 

303 


The    Orphan 


will  care  if  I  ride  over  and  see  you  occasionally, 
because  it  is  terribly  lonely  on  that  ranch." 

"  You  know  that  we  shall  always  be  glad  to  see 
you  whenever  you  can  call,"  she  replied,  smiling  up 
at  him.  "  We  are  all  very  deep  in  your  debt  and 
brother  and  all  of  us  think  a  great  deal  of  you. 
Are  you  satisfied  on  the  Star  C,  and  do  you  like 
your  work  and  your  companions?  " 

"  Thank  you,"  he  cried  happily,  "  I  will  ride 
over  and  see  you  once  in  a  while.  But  as  for  my 
work,  it  is  delightful !  The  Star  C  is  fine  and  my 
companions — well,  they  just  simply  can't  be  beat! 
they  are  the  finest,  whitest  set  of  men  that  ever 
gathered  under  one  roof." 

"  That's  very  nice,  I  am  glad  that  you  find  things 
so  congenial,"  she  replied  in  sincerity.  "  James 
was  sure  that  you  would,  for  Mr.  Blake  is  an  old 
friend  of  his." 

"  I'm  very  anxious  about  this  pin,"  he  said,  put 
ting  his  hand  on  it.  "  May  I  keep  it  for  a  while 
longer?"  he  asked  with  a  note  of  appeal  in  his 
voice. 

"  Why,  yes,"  she  replied,  "  if  you  wish  to.  But 
only  as  long  as  you  do  not  displease  me,  and  you 
will  not  do  that,  will  you?  James  has  such  deep 

304 


The  Feast 


confidence  in  you  that  I  know  you  will  not  disap 
point  him.  You  will  justify  him  in  his  own  mind 
and  in  the  minds  of  his  acquaintances  and  prove 
that  he  has  not  erred  in  judgment,  won't  you?  " 

"  If  I  am  the  sum  total  of  your  brother's  trouble, 
he  will  have  a  path  of  roses  to  wander  through  all 
the  rest  of  his  life,"  he  responded  earnestly.  "  And 
I'm  really  afraid  that  you  will  never  again  wear 
this  pin  as  a  possession  of  yours.  Of  course  you 
can  borrow  it  occasionally,"  and  he  smiled  whim 
sically,  "  but  as  far  as  displeasing  you  is  concerned, 
it  is  mine  forever.  It  will  really  and  truly  be  mine 
on  that  condition,  won't  it?  My  very  own  if  I  do 
not  forfeit  it?" 

"  If  you  wish  it  so,"  she  replied  quickly,  her  face 
radiant  with  smiles.  "  And  you  will  work  hard 
and  you  will  never  shoot  a  man,  no  matter  what 
the  provocation  may  be,  unless  it  is  absolutely  neces 
sary  to  do  it  for  the  saving  of  your  own  life  or  that 
of  a  friend  or  an  innocent  man.  Promise  me  that !  " 
she  commanded  imperatively,  pleased  at  being  able 
to  dictate  to  him.  "  Men  like  you  never  break  a 
promise,"  she  added  impulsively. 

"  I  promise  never  to  shoot  a  man,  woman,  child 
or — or  anybody,"  he  laughingly  replied,  "  unless 

305 


The  Orphan 


it  is  necessary  to  save  life.  And  I'll  work  real 
hard  and  save  my  money.  And  on  Sundays,  rain 
or  shine,  I'll  ride  in  and  report  to  my  new  fore 
man."  Then  a  bit  of  his  old  humor  came  to  him : 
"  For  I  just  about  need  this  pin — knots  are  so 
clumsy,  you  know." 

She  glanced  at  the  knot  which  held  the  pin  and 
laughed  merrily,  leading  the  way  into  the  house. 

As  they  entered  Humble  was  extolling  the  vir 
tues  of  his  dog,  to  the  broad  grins  of  his  com 
panions,  who  constantly  added  amendments  and 
made  corrections  sotto  voce. 

"  Why,  here  they  are!  "  cried  the  sheriff  in  such 
a  tone  as  to  suffuse  Helen's  face  with  blushes.  The 
Orphan  coolly  shook  hands  with  him. 

"  Yes,  here  we  are,  Sheriff,  every  one  of  us," 
he  replied.  "  We  couldn't  be  expected  to  stay  away 
when  Mrs.  Shields  put  herself  to  so  much  trouble, 
and  we're  all  happy  and  proud  to  be  so  honored. 
How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Shields,"  he  continued  as  he 
took  her  hand.  "  It  is  awful  kind  of  you  to  go  to 
such  trouble  for  a  lot  of  lonely,  hungry  fellows 
like  us." 

"Goodness  sakes!  "  she  cried,  delighted  at  his 
words  and  pleased  at  the  way  he  had  parried  her 

306 


The  Feast 


husband's  teasing  thrust.  "  Why,  it  was  no  trou 
ble  at  all — you  are  all  my  boys  now,  you  know." 

"  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Shields,"  he  replied  slowly. 
"  We  will  do  our  very  best  to  prove  ourselves 
worthy  of  being  called  your  boys." 

The  sheriff  regarded  The  Orphan  with  a  look 
of  approbation  and  turned  to  his  sister  Helen. 

"He  ain't  nobody's  fool,  eh,  Sis?"  he  whis 
pered.  "  I'm  wondering  how  you  ever  made  up 
your  mind  to  share  him  with  us !  " 

"Oh,  please  don't!  "  she  begged  in  confusion. 
"  Please  don't  tease  me  now !  " 

"  All  right,  Sis,"  he  replied  in  a  whisper,  pinch 
ing  her  ear.  "  I'll  save  it  all  up  for  some  other 
time,  some  time  when  he  ain't  around  to  turn  it 
off,  eh  ?  But  I  don't  blame  him  a  bit  for  exploring 
the  yard  first — you're  the  prettiest  girl  this  side 
of  sun-up,"  he  said,  beaming  with  love  and  pride. 
"  How's  that  for  a  change,  eh?  Worth  a  kiss?  " 

She  kissed  him  hurriedly  and  then  left  the  room 
to  attend  to  her  duties  in  the  kitchen,  and  he  saun 
tered  over  to  where  The  Orphan  was  talking  with 
Mrs.  Shields,  his  hand  rubbing  his  lips  and  a  mis 
chievous  twinkle  in  his  kind  eyes. 

"  Did  you  notice  the  new  flower-bed  right  by  the 
307 


The   Orphan 


side  of  the  house  as  you  ran  past  it  a  while  ago?  " 
he  asked,  flashing  a  keen  warning  to  his  wife. 

The  Orphan  searched  his  memory  for  the  flower 
bed  and  not  finding  it,  turned  and  smiled,  not  will 
ing  to  admit  that  his  attention  had  been  too  fully 
taken  up  with  a  fairer  flower  than  ever  grew  in 
earth. 

"  Why,  yes,  it  is  real  pretty,"  he  replied. 
"What  about  it  ?" 

"  Oh,  nothing  much,"  gravely  replied  the  sher 
iff  as  he  edged  away.  "  Only  we  were  thinking 
of  putting  a  flower-bed  there,  although  I  haven't 
had  time  to  get  at  it  yet." 

The  Orphan  flushed  and  glanced  quickly  at  the 
outfit,  who  were  too  busy  cracking  jokes  and  laugh 
ing  to  pay  any  attention  to  the  conversation  across 
the  room. 

"James!"  cried  Mrs.  Shields.  "Aren't  you 
ashamed  of  yourself !  " 

u  When  you  tickle  a  mule,"  said  the  sheriff,  grin 
ning  at  his  friend,  "  you  want  to  look  out  for  the 
kick.  Come  again  sometime,  Sonny." 

"  James!  "  his  wife  repeated,  "  how  can  you  be 
so  mean!  Now,  stop  teasing  and  behave  your 
self!" 

308 


The  Feast 


"  For  a  long  time  I've  been  puzzled  about  what 
you  resembled,  but  now  I  have  your  words  for  it," 
easily  countered  The  Orphan.  "  Thank  you  for 
putting  me  straight." 

The  sheriff  grinned  sheepishly  and  scratched  his 
head:  "  I'm  an  old  fool,"  he  grumbled,  and  forth 
with  departed  to  tell  Helen  of  the  fencing. 

Mrs.  Shields  excused  herself  and  followed  her 
husband  into  the  kitchen  to  look  after  the  dinner, 
and  The  Orphan  sauntered  over  to  his  outfit  just 
as  Jim  looked  out  of  a  rear  window.  Jim  turned 
quickly,  his  face  wearing  a  grin  from  ear  to  ear. 

"  Hey,  Bud !  "  he  called  eagerly.     "  Bud !  " 

"What?"  asked  Bud,  turning  at  the  hail. 

"  Come  over  here  for  a  minute,  I  want  to  show 
you  something,"  Jim  replied,  "  but  don't  let  Hum 
ble  come." 

Bud  obeyed  and  looked:  ujimminee!"  he  ex 
ulted.  "  Don't  that  look  sumptious,  though?  This 
is  where  we  shine,  all  right."  Then  turned: 
"  Hey,  fellows,  come  over  here  and  take  a  look." 

As  they  crowded  around  the  window  Humble 
discovered  that  something  was  in  the  wind  and 
he  followed  them.  What  they  saw  was  a  long 
table  beneath  two  trees,  and  it  was  covered  with  a 

309 


The    Orphan 


white  cloth  and  dressed  for  a  feast.  Bud  turned 
quickly  from  the  crowd  and  forcibly  led  Humble 
to  a  side  window  before  that  unfortunate  had  seen 
anything  and  told  him  to  put  his  finger  against  the 
glass,  which  Humble  finally  did  after  an  argument. 

"  Feel  the  pain?  "  Bud  asked. 

"  Why,  no,"  Humble  replied,  looking  critically 
at  his  finger.  "  What's  the  matter  with  you,  any 
how  ?" 

"Nothing,"  replied  Bud.  "Think  it  over, 
Humble,"  he  advised,  turning  away. 

Humble  again  put  his  finger  to  the  glass  and 
then  snorted : 

"  Locoed  chump !  Prosperity  is  making  him 
nutty !  "  When  he  turned  he  saw  his  friends  laugh 
ing  silently  at  him  and  making  grimaces,  and  a  light 
suddenly  broke  in  upon  him. 

"  Yes,  I  did!  "  he  cried.  "  That  joke  is  so  old 
I  plumb  forgot  it  years  ago!  Spring  something 
that  hasn't  got  whiskers  and  a  halting  step,  will 
you?" 

Jim  laughed  and  suggested  a  dance,  but  was 
promptly  squelched. 

"  You  heathen !  "  snorted  Blake  in  mock  horror. 
"  This  is  Sunday!  If  you  want  to  dance  wait  till 

310 


The  Feast 


you  get  back  to  the  ranch — suppose  one  of  the 
women  was  here  and  heard  you  say  that !  " 

"  Gee,  I  forgot  all  about  it  being  Sunday,"  re 
plied  Jim,  quickly  looking  to  see  if  any  of  the 
women  were  in  the  room.  u  We're  regular  bar 
barians,  ain't  we !  "  he  exclaimed  in  self-condemna 
tion  and  relief  when  he  saw  that  no  women  were 
present.  "  We're  regular  land  pirates,  ain't  we?  " 

"  You'll  be  asking  to  play  poker  yet,  or  have  a 
race,"  jabbed  Humble  with  malice.  "  You  ain't 
got  no  sense  and  never  did  have  any." 

"Huh!"  retorted  Jim  belligerently,  "I  won't 
try  to  learn  a  Chinee  cook  how  to  play  poker  and 
get  skinned  out  of  my  pay,  anyhow !  Got 
enough?  "  he  asked,  "  or  shall  I  tell  of  the  time  you 
drifted  into  Sagetown  and  asked " 

"  Shut  up,  you  fool!  "  whispered  Humble  fero 
ciously.  '  Yu'll  get  skun  if  you  say  too  much!  " 

"  '  Skun  '  is  real  good,"  retorted  Jim.  "  Got 
any  more  of  them  new  words  to  spring  on  us?  " 

Helen  had  been  passing  to  and  fro  past  the 
window  and  Docile  Thomas  here  put  his  marveling 
into  words,  for  he  had  been  casting  covert  glances 
at  her,  but  now  his  restraint  broke. 

"  Gee  whiz !  "  he  exclaimed  in  a  whisper  to  Jack 


The   Orphan 


Lawson.  u  Ain't  she  a  regular  hummer,  now ! 
Lines  like  a  thoroughbred,  face  like  a  dream  and 
a  smile  what  shore  is  a  winner!  See  her  hair — 
fine  and  dandy,  eh?  She's  in  the  two-forty  class, 
all  right !  "  he  enthused.  "  Why,  when  this  coun 
try  wakes  up  to  what's  in  it  the  sheriff  will  have  to 
put  up  a  stockade  around  this  house  and  mount 
guard.  Everybody  from  Bill  up  will  be  stamped 
ing  this  way  to  talk  business  with  the  sheriff.  No 
wonder  The  Orphan  has  got  a  bee  in  his  bonnet — 
lucky  dog !  " 

"  She  can  take  care  of  my  pay  every  month 
just  as  soon  as  she  says  the  word,"  Jack  replied. 
u  But  suppose  you  look  away  once  in  a  while  ?  Sup 
pose  you  shift  your  sights!  You,  too,  Humble," 
he  said,  suddenly  turning  on  the  latter. 

"  Me  what?"  asked  Humble,  without  interest 
and  without  shifting  his  gaze.  "  What  are  you 
talking  about?  " 

"  Look  at  something  else,  see?" 

"  Shore  I  see,"  replied  Humble.  "  That's  why 
I'm  looking.  Do  you  think  I  look  with  my  eyes 
shut!  Gee,  but  ain't  she  a  picture,  though!  " 

"  She  shore  is,  but  give  it  a  rest,  take  a  vacation, 
you  chump !  "  retorted  Jack.  "  You're  staring  at 

312 


The  Feast 


her  like  she  had  you  hoodooed.  Come  out  of  your 
trance — wake  up  and  make  a  fool  of  yourself  some 
other  way.  Don't  aim  all  the  time  at  her.  Mebby 
Lee  Lung  has  killed  your  dog !  " 

"  If  he  has  we'll  need  a  new  cook,"  replied 
Humble  with  decision. 

"  Come  on,  boys!  Don't  start  milling!  "  cried 
the  sheriff,  suddenly  entering  the  room.  "  Din 
ner's  all  ready  and  waiting  for  us.  And  I  shore 
hope  you  have  all  got  your  best  appetites  with  you, 
because  Margaret  likes  to  see  her  food  taken  care  of 
lively.  If  you  don't  clean  it  all  up  she'll  think  you 
don't  like  it,"  he  said,  winking  at  Blake,  "  and  if 
she  once  gets  that  notion  in  her  head  it  will  be  no 
more  invitations  for  the  Star  C." 

There  was  much  excitement  in  the  crowd,  and 
the  replies  came  fast. 

"  I  ain't  had  anything  good  to  eat  for  fifteen 
long,  aching  years!"  cried  Bud.  "  When  I  get 
through  you'll  need  a  new  table. 

"  Same  here,  only  for  thirty  years,"  replied  Jim 
hastily.  "  I  just  couldn't  sleep  last  night  for  think 
ing  about  the  glorious  surprise  my  abused  stomach 
was  due  to  have  to-day.  I'll  bet  my  gun  on  my 
performance  if  the  track  is  heavy,  all  right.  I'm 


The   Orphan 


not  poor  on  speed,  and  I'm  a  stayer  from  Stayers- 
ville." 

'  Well,  I  won't  be  among  the  also  rans,  you  can 
bet  on  that,"  laughed  Silent.  "  I  don't  weigh  very 
much,  but  I'm  geared  high." 

"  I'll  bet  it's  good !  "  cried  Humble,  "  I'll  bet 
it's  real  good!  " 

"  D n  good,  you  mean !  "   corrected  Jack. 

uHey,  fellows!"  he  cried,  "did  you  hear  what 
Humble  said?  He  said  that  he'd  bet  it  was  real 
good!" 

"  Horray  for  Humble,  the  wit  of  the  Star  C," 
laughed  Docile. 

"Me  for  the  apricot  pie!"  exulted  Charley. 
"  Here's  where  I  get  square  on  Blake  for  rubbing 
it  in  all  these  months  about  the  fine  pie  he  gets 
over  here." 

"  There  ain't  no  apricot  pie,"  gravely  lied  the 
sheriff  in  surprise. 

"What!"  cried  Charley  in  alarm.  "There 
ain't  none  for  me !  Oh,  well,  you  can't  lose  me  in 
daylight,  for  I'll  double  up  on  everything  else.  I 
ain't  going  to  get  left,  all  right !  " 

"  Don't  wake  me  up,"  begged  Joe  Haines. 
"  Let  me  dream  on  in  peace  and  plenty.  Grub, 


The  Feast 


real,    genuine    grub,    grub   what    is    grub !      Oh, 
joy!" 

Mrs.  Shields  hurried  into  the  room  and  then 
paused  in  surprise  when  she  saw  that  the  outfit  had 
not  moved  toward  the  feast. 

"Land  sakes!"  she  cried.  "Aren't  you  boys 
hungry,  or  is  James  up  to  some  of  his  everlasting 
teasing  again !  " 

"  You  talk  to  her,  Bud,"  whispered  Jim  eagerly. 
"  I'm  so  scary  I  shore  can't." 

"  Yes,  go  ahead,  Bud!  "  came  instant  and  unani 
mous  endorsement  in  whispers. 

"  Well,  ma'am,"  began  Bud,  clearing  his  throat, 
glancing  around  uneasily  to  be  sure  that  the  crowd 
was  giving  him  moral  backing,  and  feeling  uncom 
fortable,  "  we  was  just  getting  up  a — a " 

"  B,  C,  D,"  prompted  Jim  in  a  whisper. 

"  We  was  just  getting  up  a  resolution  of  thanks, 
Mrs.  Shields,"  he  continued,  stabbing  his  elbow 
into  the  stomach  of  the  offending  Jim.  "  You  shut 
up !  "  he  fiercely  whispered.  "  I'm  carrying  one 
hundred  and  forty  pounds  now  without  the  saddle ! " 
Then  he  continued:  "We  all  of  us  are  plumb 
tickled  about  this,  so  plumb  tickled  we  don't  hardly 

know  what  to  say " 

315 


The   Orphan 


'  That's  right,"  whispered  Jim,  folding  his  arms 
across  his  stomach.  "  You're  proving  it,  all  right." 

Silent  and  Jack  hauled  Jim  to  the  rear  and  Bud 
continued  unruffled:  "  But  we  want  to  thank  you, 
ma'am,  from  the  bottoms,  the  very  lowest  bottoms 
of  our  hearts  for  your  kindness  to  a  orphant  outfit 
what  ain't  had  anything  to  eat  since  the  war,  and 
very  little  during  it.  Joe  Haines,  here,  ma'am,  was 
just  saying  as  how  he  was  a-scared  that  it  is  all 
a  dream " 

"  I  didn't  neither!  "  fiercely  contradicted  Joe  in 
a  whisper,  looking  very  self-conscious.  He  was 
whisked  to  the  rear  to  join  Jim  and  the  speech 
went  on. 

"  He  is  afraid  it  is  a  dream,  ma'am,  and  I  know 
we  all  of  us  have  more  or  less  doubts  about  it  being 
really  true.  But,  ma'am,  we  shore  are  anxious  to 
find  out  all  about  it.  We've  rid  thirty  miles  to  see 
for  ourselves,  and  I  don't  reckon  you'll  have  any 
fears  about  our  appetites  being  left  at  home  when 
you  sizes  up  the  wreck  left  in  the  path  of  the  storm 
after  the  stampede  is  over.  The  boys  want  to  give 
you  three  cheers  even  if  it  is  Sunday,  ma'am,  for 
your  kindness  to  them,  and  I'm  shore  one  of  the 
boys!" 


The  Feast 


"  Hip,  hip,  horray!  "  yelled  the  crowd,  surging 
forward. 

"  Good  boy,  Bud!  "  they  cried. 

"  I'm  proud  of  you,  Buddie !  "  exulted  Charley, 
slapping  him  extra  heartily  on  the  back. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  had  it  in  you,  Bud !  "  cried 
Silent.  "  It  was  shore  a  dandy  speech,  all  right." 

"  We'll  send  you  to  Congress  for  that,  some 
day,  Bud,"  cried  Jack  Lawson.  "  You're  all 
right !  " 

"I  once  had  a  piece  of  pie,  a  piece  of  pie,  a  piece  of  pie, 
I  once  had  a  piece  of  pie,  when  I  was  five  years  old," 

sang  Charley  as  he  pranced  toward  the  door. 

"  Good  I  Go  on,  Charley,  go  on !  "  cried  his 
companions  joyously. 


"Now  I'll  have  another  piece,  another  piece,  another  piece, 
Now  I'll  have  another  piece,  that's  two  all  told. 

Good  bye,  Lee  Lung,  good  bye  Lee  Lung, 

Good  bye,  Lee  Lung,  we're  going  to  forget  you  now!" 

"  Again  on  that  Lee  Lung,  altogether — it  hits 
me  right !  "  cried  Bud,  and  the  matter  pertaining 
to  the  farewells  to  Lee  Lung  was  promptly  and 
properly  attended  to  in  heartfelt  sincerity. 

The  ladies  laughed  with  delight,  and  Mrs. 
Shields  whispered  to  her  husband,  who  nodded  and 

317 


The   Orphan 


escorted  The  Orphan  to  a  seat  near  the  head  of 
the  table,  where  he  was  flanked  by  Helen  and 
Blake. 

"  Grab  your  partners,  boys,"  the  sheriff  cried, 
pointing  to  the  chairs.  There  was  a  hasty  piling 
of  belts  and  guns  on  the  ground,  and  after  much 
confusion  all  were  seated. 

The  sheriff  arose:  "Boys,  Mrs.  Shields  wants 
me  to  tell  you  how  pleased  she  is  to  have  you  all 
here.  She  has  felt  plumb  sorry  about  you  and  she 
shore  has  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  a  Chinee 
cook " 

u  Which  same  we  all  do — it's  chronic,"  inter 
posed  Jim  to  laughter. 

"  She  wants  you  to  make  yourselves  at  home," 
continued  the  sheriff,  "  learn  the  lay  of  the  land 
around  this  range  and  never  forget  the  trail  lead 
ing  here,  because  she  insists  that  when  any  of  you 
come  to  town  you  have  simply  got  to  pay  us  a  visit 
and  see  if  there  is  a  piece  of  pie  or  cake  to  eat 
before  you  go  back  to  that  cook.  And  Tom  says 
that  he'll  fire  the  first  man  who  renigs " 

"  I'm  going  to  carry  the  mail  hereafter!  "  cried 
Bud,  scowling  fiercely  at  Joe. 

"  Not  if  I  can  shoot  first,  you  don't !  "  retorted 

318 


The  Feast 


the  mail  carrier.  "  I  was  just  a-wondering  if  it 
wouldn't  be  better  to  come  in  twice  a  week  for  it 
instead  of  once.  We  might  get  more  letters." 

"  We'll  bid  for  your  job  next  year,"  laughed 
Silent. 

"  Before  I  coax  you  to  eat,"  continued  the  sher 
iff,  "  I " 

"  Wrong  word,  Sheriff,"  interposed  Humble. 
"  Not  coax,  but  force." 

"  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  reverse  things  a  lit 
tle,  and  drink  a  standing  toast  to  the  man  who 
saved  the  stage,  to  the  man  who  saved  Miss  Ritchie 
and  my  sisters  and  who  made  this  dinner  possible. 
This  would  be  far  from  a  happy  day  but  for  him. 
I  want  you  to  drink  to  the  long  life  and  happiness 
of  The  Orphan.  All  up!" 

The  clink  of  glasses  was  lost  in  the  spontaneous 
cheer  which  burst  from  the  lips  of  the  former  out 
law's  new  friends,  and  he  sat  confused  and  embar 
rassed  with  a  sudden  timidity,  his  face  crimson. 

"  Speech!  "  cried  Jim,  the  others  joining  in  the 
cry.  "Speech!  Speech!" 

Finally,  after  some  urging,  The  Orphan  slowly 
arose  to  his  feet,  a  foolish  smile  playing  about  his 
lips. 

319 


The   Orphan 


"  It  wasn't  anything,"  he  said  deprecatingly. 
"  You  all  would  have  done  it,  every  one  of  you. 
But  I'm  glad  it  was  me.  I'm  glad  I  was  on  hand, 
although  it  wasn't  anything  to  make  all  this  fuss 
about,"  and  he  dropped  suddenly  into  his  seat, 
feeling  hot  and  uncomfortable. 

'  Well,  we  have  different  ideas  about  its  being 
nothing,"  replied  the  sheriff.  "  Now,  boys,  a  toast 
to  Bill  Halloway,"  he  requested.  "  Bill  couldn't 
get  here  to-day,  but  we  mustn't  forget  him.  His 
splendid  grit  and  driving  made  it  possible  for  our 
friend  to  play  his  hand  so  well." 

"  Hurrah  for  Bill!  "  cried  Silent,  leaping  to  his 
feet  with  the  others.  When  seated  again  he  looked 
quickly  at  his  glass  and  turned  to  Bud. 

"  Real  sweet  cider!  "  he  exulted.  "  Good  Lord, 
but  how  time  gallops  past !  I'd  almost  forgotten 
what  it  was  like !  It's  been  over  twenty  years  since 
I  tasted  any!  Ain't  it  fine?  " 

"  I  was  wondering  what  it  was,"  remarked 
Humble,  a  trace  of  awe  in  his  voice  as  he  refilled 
his  glass.  "  It's  shore  enough  sweet  cider,  and 
blamed  good,  too !  " 

Charley  was  romping  with  the  mail  carrier  and 
he  had  a  sudden  inspiration :  "  Speech  from  Joe ! 

320 


The  Feast 


Speech  for  the  pieces  of  pie  and  cake  he's  due  to 
get!" 

"  Now,  look  here,  boy,"  Joe  gravely  replied. 
"  I'm  the  mail  carrier.  I  don't  have  to  go  on  jury 
duty,  lead  religion  round-ups,  go  to  war  or  make 
speeches.  As  the  books  say,  I'm  exempt.  All  I 
have  to  do  is  punch  cows,  rustle  the  mail  and  eat 
pie  and  cake  once  a  week,"  he  said,  glancing  at 
Bud,  who  glared  and  groaned. 

"Good  boy,  Joe!"  cried  Humble,  waving  his 
glass  excitedly.  "  You're  shore  all  right,  you  are, 
and  I'm  your  deputy,  ain't  I?  " 

"  No,  not  my  deputy,  but  my  delirium,"  cor 
rected  Joe. 

"  Glory  be !  "  cried  Silent  as  his  plate  was  passed 
to  him.  "  Chicken,  real  chicken !  Mashed  pota 
toes,  mashed  turnips  and  dressing  and  gravy !  And 
here  comes  stewed  corn,  boiled  onions  and  jelly 
and  mother's  bread.  And  stewed  tomatoes  ?  Well, 
well!  I  guess  we  ain't  going  to  be  well  fed,  and 
real  happy,  eh,  fellows  ?  My  stomach  won't  know 
what's  the  matter — it'll  think  it  died  and  went  to 
heaven  by  mistake.  Holy  smoke !  It  hurts  my 
eyes.  What,  cranberry  jam?  Well,  I'm  just  going 
to  close  my  eyes  for  a  minute  if  you  don't  mind; 

321 


The   Orphan 


I  want  to  recuperate  from  the  shock.  This  is  where 
I  live  again !  " 

Humble  stared  in  rapture  at  the  feast  before  him 
and  finally  heaved  a  long  drawn  sigh  of  doubt  and 
content. 

"  Gee!  "  he  cried  softly,  a  far-away  look  in  his 
eyes.  "Look  at  it,  just  look  at  it!  Just  like  I 
used  to  get  when  I  was  a  little  tad  back  in  Connec 
ticut — but  that  was  shore  a  long  time  ago. 
Well,"  he  exclaimed,  bracing  up  and  bravely  for 
getting  his  boyhood,  "  there's  one  thing  I  hope,  and 
that  is  that  Lee  beats  my  dog.  Then  I  can  shoot 
him  and  get  square  for  all  these  years  of  imitation 
grub  what  he's  handed  out  to  me !  " 

"Hey,  Tom!"  eagerly  cried  Charley,  "why 
can't  we  handle  a  herd  of  chickens  out  on  the  ranch, 
and  have  a  garden?  Why,  we  could  have  eggs 
every  day  and  chickens  on  holidays !  " 

"  No  wonder  Tom  likes  to  ride  to  town," 
laughed  Silent.  "  Gee  whiz,  I'd  walk  it  for  pie  and 
cake  and  real  genuine  coffee!  " 

"Walk  it!"  snorted  Jim.  "Huh,  I'd  crawl, 
and  stand  on  my  head,  knock  my  feet  together  and 
crow  every  half  mile!  Walk  it,  huh!  " 

Merriment  reigned  supreme  throughout  the  meal 
322 


The  Feast 


and  when  the  bashfulness  had  worn  off  the  conver 
sation  became  fast  and  furious,  abounding  in  terse 
wit,  verbal  attacks  and  clever  counters,  and  in 
concentrated  onslaughts  against  the  unfortunate 
Humble,  who  soon  found,  however,  a  new  and 
loyal  champion  in  Miss  Ritchie,  who  took  his  part. 
Her  assistance  was  so  doughty  as  to  more  than 
once  put  to  rout  his  tormentors,  and  before  the  des 
sert  had  been  reached  he  was  her  devoted  slave 
and  admirer  and  was  henceforth  to  sing  her 
praises  at  every  opportunity,  and  even  to  make 
opportunities. 

At  The  Orphan's  end  of  the  table  all  was  serene. 
He,  Helen,  Blake  and  the  sheriff  found  much  to 
talk  about,  and  all  the  while  Mrs.  Shields  regarded 
the  four  in  a  motherly  way,  and  tempered  the  keen 
ness  of  her  husband's  wit,  for  he  was  prone  to  break 
lances  with  The  Orphan  and  to  tease  his  sister, 
much  to  her  confusion.  She  was  very  happy,  for 
here  at  her  side  were  her  husband  and  the  man 
she  had  feared  would  harm  him,  laughing  and  jok 
ing  and  the  best  of  friends;  and  down  the  table 
a  crowd  of  big-hearted  boys,  her  boys  now,  were 
having  the  time  of  their  lives.  They  were  good 
boys,  too,  she  told  herself;  a  trifle  rough,  but  ster- 

323 


The  Orphan 


ling  at  the  heart,  and  every  one  of  them  a  loyal 
friend.  How  good  it  was  to  see  them  eat  and  hear 
them  laugh,  all  happy  and  mischievous.  The  weld 
ing  of  the  units  had  been  finished,  and  now  the 
Star  C  and  The  Orphan  were  one  in  spirit. 


324 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

PREPARATION 

ATER  the  dinner  at  the  sheriff's  house,  life 
meant  much  to  The  Orphan,  for  the  dinner 
had  done  its  work  and  done  it  well.  What 
ever  had  been  missing  to  complete  the  good  fellow 
ship  between  him  and  the  others  had  been  sup 
plied  and  by  the  time  the  outfit  was  ready  to  leave 
for  home,  all  corners  had  been  rounded  and  all 
rough  edges  smoothed  down.  With  his  outfit  he 
was  in  hearty,  loyal  accord,  and  the  spirit  of  the 
ranch  had  become  his  own.  With  the  sheriff  his 
already  strong  liking  had  been  stripped  of  any 
undesirable  qualities,  and  he  felt  that  Shields  was 
not  only  the  whitest  man  he  had  ever  met,  but  also 
his  best  friend.  He  had  become  more  intimate 
with  the  sheriff's  household,  and  for  Mrs.  Shields 
he  had  only  love  and  respect. 

With  Helen  his  cup  was  full  to  overflowing,  for 
he  had  managed  to  hold  several  long  talks  with  her 

32S 


The   Orphan 


during  the  afternoon,  and  to  his  mind  he  had  heard 
nothing  detrimental  to  his  hopes.  His  eyes  had 
been  opened  as  to  what  it  was  he  had  been  hunger 
ing  for,  and  the  knowledge  thrilled  him  to  his  fin 
ger-tips.  He  was  a  red-blooded,  clean-limbed  man, 
direct  of  words  and  purpose,  reveling  in  a  joyous, 
surging,  vigorous  health,  in  tune  with  his  surround 
ings;  he  was  dominant,  fearless,  and  he  had  a 
saving  grace  in  his  humor.  To  him  came  visions 
of  the  future,  golden  as  the  sunrise,  rich  in  promise 
and  assurance  as  to  a  happiness  such  as  he  could 
only  feebly  feel.  Himself  he  was  sure  of,  for  he 
feared  no  failure  on  his  part;  as  far  as  he  was  con 
cerned  it  was  won.  Helen,  he  believed  from  what 
the  day  had  given  him,  would  not  refuse  him  when 
the  time  came  for  her  to  decide,  and  his  effervescent 
spirits  sent  a  song  to  his  lips,  which  he  hurled  to  the 
sky  as  a  war-cry,  a  slogan  of  triumph  and  a  defiance. 
As  yet  he  knew  nothing  of  the  sheriff's  plans,  and 
his  thoughts  concerning  his  future  position  in  the 
community  did  not  dare  to  soar  above  that  of  fore 
man  of  some  ranch.  To  this  end  he  would  bend 
his  energies  with  all  the  power  of  his  splendid 
trinity — heart,  mind  and  body.  He  was  far  too 
happy  to  think  of  failure,  because  there  would  be 

326 


Preparation 


none;  had  the  word  passed  through  his  mind  he 
would  have  laughed  it  into  oblivion.  His  experi 
ence  gave  him  confidence,  for  he  was  no  weakling 
sheltered  and  protected  by  any  guiding  angel;  to 
the  contrary,  he  was  the  survivor  of  a  bitter  war 
against  conditions  which  would  have  destroyed  a 
less  strong  man;  he  was  victor  over  himself  and 
his  enemies,  a  conqueror  of  adverse  conditions,  a 
hewer  of  his  own  path;  his  enemies  had  been  his 
best  friends,  and  his  long  fight,  his  salvation.  For 
ten  years  he  had  constantly  fought  a  bitter  fight 
against  nature  and  man;  hunger  and  thirst,  plots 
and  ambushes  had  all  played  their  parts,  and  he 
had  won  out  over  all  of  them.  He  was  young, 
hopeful  and  unafraid,  and  now  that  he  was  on  the 
right  trail  he  would  bend  every  energy  to  stay  there, 
and  he  would  stay  there,  be  the  opposition  what  it 
might;  and  if  the  opposition  should  be  man,  and  of 
a  strength  dangerous  to  him,  he  would  destroy  it 
as  he  had  destroyed  others  before  it.  While  now 
scorning  to  use  his  gun  on  every  provocation  he 
would  depend  upon  it  as  on  a  court  of  last  resort — 
and  its  decision  would  be  final. 

He  held  ill  wishes  against  no  man  save  one,  and 
that  one  was  the  man  who  had  placed  the  rope 

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The   Orphan 


about  the  neck  of  his  father.  He  did  not  know 
that  man's  name,  and  he  did  not  know  that  he 
might  not  be  among  those  who  had  already  paid 
for  that  crime.  But  should  he  ever  learn  that  he 
lived  he  would  take  payment  in  full  be  the  cost  what 
it  might. 

But  he  had  no  thoughts  for  strife,  he  only  knew 
that  the  sun  had  never  been  so  bright,  the  sky  so 
blue  and  the  plain  so  full  of  life  and  beauty  as  it 
was  on  this  perfect  day.  Only  one  other  day 
rivaled  it — the  day  he  had  swayed  weakly  by  the 
side  of  a  dusty  coach  and  had  felt  warm,  soft 
fingers  touching  his  forehead.  But,  he  told  himself 
with  joy,  there  would  be  days  to  come  which  would 
eclipse  even  that. 

He  was  aroused  from  his  reverie  by  the  approach 
of  the  foreman,  who  gave  him  a  hearty  hail  and 
smiled  at  the  happy  expression  on  the  puncher's 
face. 

"  Well,  you  look  like  you  had  struck  it  rich !  " 
cried  Blake.  "  What  is  it,  gold  or  silver?  " 

"Gold  or  silver!"  cried  The  Orphan  in  con 
tempt  at  such  cheapness.  "  By  God,  Blake,  I 
wouldn't  sell  my  claim  for  all  the  gold  and  silver 
in  this  fool  earth !  Gold  or  silver !  Why,  man,  I 

328 


Preparation 


know  where  there  is  plenty  of  both.  Here,"  he 
cried,  plunging  his  hand  into  his  chaps  pocket, 
"look  at  this!" 

The  foreman  looked  and  whistled  and  took  the 
object  into  his  hand,  where  he  examined  it  critically. 
"  By  George,  it's  the  yellow  metal,  all  right,  and 
blamed  near  pure !  "  He  returned  it  to  its  owner 
and  added:  "  That's  the  real  stuff,  Orphan." 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  replied  the  other  as  he  pocketed  the 
nugget.  "  And  I  know  where  it  came  from. 
There's  plenty  left  that's  just  like  it,  but  I  wouldn't 
go  after  it  if  it  was  diamonds." 

"  You  wouldn't!  "  exclaimed  Blake  in  surprise. 
"  By  George,  I'd  go  to-morrow,  to-night,  if  I  knew. 
Gold  like  that  ain't  to  be  sneered  at.  It  spells 
ranches,  ease,  plenty,  anything  you  want.  And  you 
wouldn't  go  for  it?  " 

"  No,  I  wouldn't,  and  I  won't,"  replied  the 
puncher.  "  I'm  going  to  stay  right  here  on  this 
range  and  make  good  with  my  hands  and  brains. 
I'm  going  to  win  the  game  with  the  cards  I  hold, 
and  when  I  say  win  I  mean  it.  There  are  times 
when  gold  is  a  dangerous  thing  to  have,  and  this 
is  one  of  them,  as  you'll  understand  when  I  dis 
close  my  hand.  When  I  win  I  won't  need  gold 

329 


The   Orphan 


bad  enough  to  go  through  hell  and  hot  water  for 
it  and  risk  not  getting  back  to  my  claim,  and  it's 
one  hundred  to  one  that  I  wouldn't  get  back,  too. 
And  if  I  lose,  mind  you,  if,  I  won't  have  any  use 
for  it.  I  picked  that  nugget  up  in  the  middle  of  the 
damnedest  desert  God  ever  made,  and  when  I  got 
off  it  I  was  loco  for  a  week.  I  won't  tell  any 
friend  of  mine  where  it  is  because  I  want  my  friends 
to  go  on  drawing  their  breath.  I  need  my  friends 
a  whole  lot,  and  that's  why  I  don't  tell  you  where 
it  is.  I  was  saving  that  for  my  enemies.  Two  have 
gone  after  it  already,  and  haven't  been  heard  of 
since." 

"  Well,  you  are  the  first  man  who  ever  told 
me  that  gold  isn't  worth  going  after,  and  you 
have  convinced  me  that  in  your  case  you  are  right," 
laughed  the  foreman. 

"  You  wouldn't  have  to  be  told  if  you  knew  that 
desert  as  I  do,"  replied  The  Orphan. 

"  How  was  the  sheriff  last  night?  "  asked  Blake. 
"  Or  didn't  you  notice,  being  too  much  occupied 
in  your  claim?  " 

The  Orphan  looked  at  him  and  then  laughed 
softly:  "  He  was  the  same  as  ever — the  best  man 
I  ever  knew.  But  how  in  thunder  do  you  know 

330 


Preparation 


about  my  claim?  How  did  you  know  what  I 
meant?  I  thought  that  I  had  covered  that  trail 
pretty  well." 

Blake  put  his  hand  on  his  friend's  shoulders 
and  gravely  looked  at  him:  "  Son,  having  eyes,  I 
see;  having  ears,  I  hear;  having  brains,  I  think.  If 
you  have  been  fooling  yourself  that  you  are  on 
a  quiet  trail,  just  listen  to  this :  There  ain't  a  man 
who  knows  you  well  that  don't  know  what  you're 
playing  for,  even  Bill  had  it  all  mapped  out  the 
second  time  he  saw  you.  And  most  of  us  wish  you 
luck.  You're  not  a  man  who  needs  help,  but  if 
you  do  need  it,  you  know  where  to  come  for  it." 

"  Thank  you,  Blake,"  replied  The  Orphan, 
eagerly  filling  his  lungs  with  the  crisp  air.  "  That's 
why  I  ain't  hankering  for  that  gold — I'm  too 
blamed  busy  making  my  own." 

"  Well,  what  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  about  is 
this,"  said  the  foreman,  thinking  quickly  as  to  how 
to  say  it.  "  Old  man  Crawford  got  me  to  promise 
that  I'd  pick  up  a  herd  of  cows  for  him  before  fall. 
Now,  I  would  just  as  soon  do  it  myself  as  not, 
but  if  you  want  to  try  your  hand  at  it,  go  ahead. 
He  wants  about  five  thousand,  to  be  delivered  in 
five  herds,  a  thousand  each,  at  his  corrals.  He 

331 


The   Orphan 


won't  pay  any  more  than  the  regular  price  for 
them,  and  the  more  you  can  drop  the  price  the 
better  he  will  like  it,  of  course.  They  must  be 
good,  healthy  cattle  and  be  delivered  to  him  before 
payment  is  made.  What  do  you  say?  " 

"I  say  that  it's  a  go!"  cried  The  Orphan. 
"I've  had  some  great  luck  lately!"  he  exulted. 
"  I'm  ready  to  go  after  them  whenever  you  say  the 
word,  to-night  if  you  say  so.  And  I'll  get  the 
right  number  and  kind  or  know  the  reason  why. 
And  I'll  take  a  hand  in  driving  the  last  herd  to 
him  myself.  Good  Lord,  what  luck!  " 

Blake  talked  a  while  longer  about  the  trip,  giv 
ing  necessary  instructions  about  prices  and  where 
he  would  be  likely  to  find  the  herd,  and  then  rode 
off  in  the  direction  of  Ford's  Station  for  a  consulta 
tion  with  his  friend,  the  sheriff. 

"  Hullo,  Tom!  "  came  from  the  stage  office  as 
he  rode  past.  He  quickly  turned  his  head  and  then 
stopped,  smiling  broadly. 

"  Why,  hullo,  Bill,"  he  replied.  "  Glad  to  see 
you.  How  are  things?  Had  any  trouble  lately?  " 

"  Nope,  times  are  real  dull  since  that  day  in  the 
defile,"  Bill  answered  with  a  grin.  "  I  saw  Tex 
once  at  Sagetown,  but  he  ain't  talking  none  these 

332 


Preparation 


days,  he's  too  busy  thinking.  You  see,  I've  got  a 
purty  strong  combination  backing  me  and  nobody 
feels  like  starting  it  a-going,  because  there  ain't  no 
telling  just  where  it'll  stop.  The  Orphant  and  the 
sheriff  make  a  blamed  good  team,  all  right." 

"  None  better  at  any  game,  Bill,"  replied  Blake. 
"  And  you  used  the  right  word,  too.  They're 
going  to  pull  together  from  now  on,  in  fact,  the 
Star  C  will  be  in  harness  with  them." 

"That's  the  way  to  talk!"  cried  Bill  enthusi 
astically.  "  I  always  said  that  Orphant  was  a  white 
man,  even  before  I  ever  saw  him,"  he  said,  forget 
ting  much  that  he  might  be  in  hearty  accord.  "  He 
can  call  on  me  any  time  he  needs  me,  you  bet.  He 
cheated  the  devil  twice  with  me,  and  I  ain't  a-going 
to  forget  it.  But  say,  what  do  you  think  of  the 
sheriff's  sister,  Helen?  Ain't  she  a  winner,  hey? 
Finest  girl  these  parts  have  ever  seen,  all  right, 
and  her  friend  ain't  second  by  no  length,  neither." 

"  Why,  Bill,"  exclaimed  Blake,  a  twinkle  com 
ing  to  his  eyes,  u  you  are  not  allowing  yourself 
to  get  captured,  are  you?  That's  a  risky  game, 
like  starting  up  The  Orphan  and  the  sheriff,  for 
there's  no  telling  just  where  it  will  stop." 

"  No,    I    ain't    letting    myself    get    captured," 

333 


The    Orphan 


sighed  Bill.  "  I  ain't  no  fool.  Bill  Howland 
knows  a  thing  or  two,  which  he  learned  not  more 
than  a  thousand  years  ago.  I've  got  it  all  sized 
up.  And  since  then  I've  seen  a  certain  bang-up 
puncher  hitting  the  trail  for  the  sheriff's  house 
some  regular  twice  a  week.  Nope,  I'm  a  batchler 
now  and  forever,  long  may  I  wave." 

"  Say,"  he  continued,  suddenly  remembering 
something.  "What's  the  sheriff  up  to  now?  Is 
he  going  to  have  a  picnic  out  on  Crawford's  ranch? 
He  asked  me  if  he  could  have  the  lend  of  the 
stage  on  an  off  day  some  time  soon.  Wants  me  to 
drive  it  for  him  out  to  the  A-Y  and  back.  I  don't 
know  what  his  game  is,  and  I  don't  care  none.  I'll 
do  it,  all  right.  But  what's  he  going  to  do  out 
there,  anyhow?  " 

Blake  laughed:  "Oh,  nothing  bad,  I  reckon. 
You'll  probably  learn  all  about  it  as  soon  as  the 
rest  of  us.  How  do  you  expect  me  to  know  any 
thing  about  it?  Mebby  he  is  going  to  have  a 
picnic  out  there  for  all  we  know.  The  A-Y  is  a 
good  place  for  one,  ain't  it?  " 

"  You  just  bet  it  is,"  cried  Bill.  "  Your  ranch 
is  all  right,  Blake,  but  I  like  the  A-Y  better.  It's 
got  windmills  and  everything.  Finest  grove  near 

334 


Preparation 


the  ranch-house  that  I  ever  saw,  and  I've  seen  some 
fine  groves  in  my  time.  Old  man  Crawford  knew 
a  good  thing  when  he  saw  it,  all  right.  Here 
comes  Charley  Winter  like  he  had  all  day  to  go 
nowhere — he's  got  a  good  job  with  the  Cross 
Bar-8,  but  I  wouldn't  have  it  for  a  gift — no,  sir, 
money  wouldn't  tempt  me  to  be  one  of  that  outfit, 
But  I  reckon  it's  some  better  out  there  than  it  once 
was  since  the  sheriff  and  The  Orphant  amputated 
its  inflamed  fingers.  Hullo,  Charley,"  he  cried  as 
the  newcomer  drew  rein.  "  I  was  just  telling  Blake 
what  a  good  job  you  have  got  with  Sneed." 

"  Hullo,  you  old  one-hoss  driver,"  grinned  Char 
ley.  "  Hullo,  Tom,"  he  cried.  "  Looking  for  the 
sheriff?" 

"  Hullo,  Charley,"  said  the  foreman,  shaking 
hands  with  Sneed's  substitute  puncher.  "  Yes,  I 
am.  Do  you  know  where  he  is?  " 

"  He's  out  at  the  Cross  Bar-8,  giving  Sneed  a 
talking  to,"  Charley  answered.  "  Bucknell  went 
and  got  loaded  again  last  night,  raised  h — 1  in 
town  and  out  of  it  all  the  way  home.  He  thought 
he  wanted  to  shoot  up  The  Orphan,  so  he  was  some 
primed.  Jim  is  telling  Sneed  to  hold  him  down  to 
water  and  peace  unless  he  wants  to  lose  him.  He'll 

335 


The   Orphan 


be  in  soon,  though.  How's  The  Orphan  getting 
on  out  at  your  place?  " 

"  Fine !  "  answered  Blake,  his  face  wearing  a 
frown.  "  But  I'm  some  sorry  about  that  fool 
Bucknell,  though.  He  may  get  on  a  spree  some 
day  and  find  The  Orphan.  I  don't  want  any  more 
gun-play,  and  if  that  idiot  does  find  him  and  gets 
ambitious  to  notch  up  his  gun  another  hole,  there'll 
shore  be  some  loose  lead.  If  he  ever  gets  on 
Star  C  ground,  and  I  catch  him  there,  I'll  shore 
enough  wipe  up  the  earth  with  him,  and  when  you 
see  him,  just  tell  him  what  I  said,  will  you?  It 
ain't  no  joke,  for  I  will." 

"  Shore  I'll  tell  him,"  replied  Charley.  "  When 
will  that  bunch  of  cattle  be  on  hand — I'm  anxious 
to  swap  jobs." 

Blake  flashed  him  a  warning  glance  and  tried 
to  ignore  the  question  by  changing  the  subject,  but 
it  was  too  late,  for  Bill  was  curious. 

"What  cattle  is  that,  Charley?"  asked  the 
driver  in  sudden  interest. 

"  Oh,  some  cattle  that  I'm  going  to  get  of  Blake 
for  Sneed,"  lied  Charley  easily. 

"  What  in  all  get  out  does  Sneed  want  with  any 
Star  C  cows?  "  Bill  asked  in  surprise.  "  He's  got 

336 


Preparation 


plenty  of  cows  of  his  own,  unless  The  Orphant 
shot  a  whole  lot  more  than  I  thought  he  did." 

"I   don't  know,    Bill,"    replied   Charley.      "I 
didn't  ask  him,  it  being  plainly  none  of  my  busi 


ness." 


Bill  scratched  his  head:  "  No,  I  reckon  not,"  he 
replied  doubtfully. 

"  Here  comes  Shields  now,"  said  Blake  suddenly. 
"  I  reckon  I'll  ride  off  and  meet  him.  So  long, 
Bill." 

"  So  long,"  replied  Bill.  "  Be  sure  to  tell  The 
Orphan  I  was  asking  about  him.  So  long,  Char 
ley."  He  turned  abruptly  and  entered  the  stage 
office:  "I  don't  understand  it,"  he  muttered. 
"  There's  something  in  the  wind  that  I  can't  get 
onto  nohow.  He  has  shore  got  me  guessing  some, 
all  right." 

The  clerk  tossed  aside  the  paper  and  stared: 

"  Well,  that's  too  d d  bad,  now  ain't  it?  "  he 

asked  sarcastically.  "  You  ought  to  object,  that's 
what  you  ought  to  do !  What  right  has  anybody 
to  keep  quiet  about  their  own  business  when  you 
want  to  know,  hey?  If  I  wanted  to  know  every 
body's  business  as  bad  as  you  do,  I'd  shore  raise 
h — 1,  I  would.  Why  don't  you  choke  it  out  of 

337 


The   Orphan 


him,  wipe  up  the  earth  with  him?  Go  out  right 
now  and  give  him  a  piece  of  your  mind." 

"  Oh,  you  would,  would  you !  You're  blamed 
smart,  now  ain't  you?  You  work  too  hard — 
you're  nerves  are  giving  away,"  drawled  Bill  as  he 
picked  up  the  paper.  "  Sitting  around  all  day  with 
your  feet  on  the  table  and  a  pipe  in  your  mouth 
that  you're  too  lazy  to  light,  working  like  the  very 
devil  trying  to  find  time  to  do  the  company's  busi 
ness,  which  there  ain't  none  to  do.  Ain't  you 
ashamed  to  go  to  bed? — it  must  take  a  lot  of  gall 
to  hunt  your  rest  at  night  after  finding  it  and  hug 
ging  it  all  day.  What  would  you  do  for  a  living 
if  I  forgot  to  bring  the  paper  with  me  some  day, 
hey?  You  ain't  got  enough  animation  to  want  to 
know  what  is  going  on  in  this  little  world  of  ours, 
you " 

"  You  get  out  of  here,  right  now,  too!  "  yelled 
the  clerk.  "I  don't  want  you  hanging  around  both 
ering  me,  you  pest !  Get  out  of  here  right  now, 
before  I  get  up  and  throw  you  out!  Do  you 
hear  me!  " 

Bill  crossed  his  legs,  pushed  back  his  sombrero, 
turned  the  page  carefully  and  then  remarked,  "  I 
licked  four  husky  cow-punchers,  real  bad  men,  last 

338 


Preparation 


month.  One  right  after  the  other,  and  I  was 
purty  near  all  in,  too."  He  glanced  at  the  next 
page  disinterestedly,  spat  at  a  fly  on  the  edge  of 
the  box  cuspidor  and  then  added  wearily  and  with 
great  deprecation,  "  I'm  feeling  fine  to-day,  never 
felt  so  good  in  my  life,  but  I  need  more  exercise — 
I'm  two  pounds  over  weight  right  now." 

The  clerk  showed  interest  and  awe:  "  Weight?  " 
he  asked.  "  What  is  your  fighting  weight?  " 

Bill  looked  up  aggressively:  "Fighting  weight?" 
he  asked,  raising  his  eyebrows.  "  My  fighting 
weight  is  something  over  nine  hundred  pounds, 
when  I'm  real  mad.  Ordinarily,  one  hundred  and 
eighty.  Why?" 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  replied  the  clerk,  staring  out 
of  the  window. 


339 


CHAPTER   XIX 

THE  ORPHAN  GOES  TO  THE  A-Y 

THE  A-Y  had  been  a  very  busy  place  for 
the  past  two  weeks  because  of  the  cattle 
which  had  to  be  re-branded  and  taken 
care  of,  and  of  other  things  which  had  to  be  done 
about  the  ranch.  The  sheriff  had  taken  title  and 
had  persuaded  Crawford  to  remain  in  nominal 
charge  for  a  month  at  the  most  so  as  to  keep  the 
sale  a  secret  until  the  new  owner  would  be  ready 
to  make  it  known.  So  word  went  around  that 
Crawford  had  hired  the  sheriff  to  put  things  on  a 
paying  basis  and  that  half  of  the  old  outfit  had 
left,  their  places  being  filled  by  Charley,  the  two 
Larkin  brothers  and  two  men  from  a  northern 
ranch. 

Shields  had  been  very  mucK  pleased  with  the 
cattle  which  The  Orphan  had  bought  for  him  and 
had  asked  Blake  if  he  could  borrow  the  new 
puncher  to  help  him  get  things  in  good  running 

340 


The   Orphan   Goes  to  the  A-Y 

shape.  Blake  had  told  The  Orphan  of  the  sheriff's 
request  and  had  advised  him  to  accept,  which 
the  puncher  was  very  glad  to  do.  So  this  is  how  the 
former  outlaw  became  temporary  foreman  of  the 
A-Y  under  the  sheriff.  Only  the  sheriff's  most  inti 
mate  friends  knew  his  plans,  one  of  whom  was 
Charley  Winter,  who  found  food  for  mirth  in  the 
unique  position  things  had  taken.  The  sheriff's 
deputies  who  had  lain  out-doors  all  night  on  the 
Cross  Bar-8  waiting  to  capture  or  kill  the  outlaw 
were  now  working  under  him,  and  the  best  of  feel 
ings  prevailed.  The  man  who  had  hunted  The 
Orphan  now  employed  him  as  the  bearer  of  the 
responsibilities  of  the  new  ranch.  Truly,  a  change ! 

While  The  Orphan  was  busy  with  his  duties  on 
the  A-Y  the  sheriff  rode  to  the  Star  C  and  sought 
out  the  foreman,  whom  he  finally  found  engaged 
in  freeing  a  cow  that  had  become  mired  in  a  quick 
sand.  As  the  terror-stricken  animal  galloped 
wildly  away  from  the  scene  of  torture  and  indigni 
ties  to  its  person  Blake  mopped  his  face  and  began 
to  scrape  the  quicksand  from  him. 

"  Playing  life-saver,  eh?  "  laughed  the  sheriff. 

The  foreman  looked  up  and  smiled  sheepishly: 
"  Yes,"  he  replied  as  he  shook  hands  with  the 

341 


The  Orphan 


sheriff.  "  One  cow  more  or  less  won't  make  nor 
break  no  ranch,  but  I  just  can't  see  'em  suffer. 
The  boys  and  I  were  passing,  so  we  stopped  and 
got  to  work.  But  cows  ain't  got  no  gratitude,  not 
nohow !  That  ornery  beast  will  be  all  ready  to 
charge  me  the  first  time  he  sees  me  afoot.  Did  you 
see  him  try  to  horn  me  when  I  let  go?  " 

His  friend  laughed,  and  when  they  had  ridden 
some  distance  from  the  others  he  turned  in  his 
saddle : 

"  Well,  The  Orphan  is  working  like  a  horse, 
and  he  likes  it,  too,"  he  said.  "  You  ought  to  hear 
him  giving  orders — he  just  asks  a  man  to  do  a 
thing,  don't  order  it  done.  When  he  talks  it  sounds 
like  the  puncher  would  be  doing  him  the  greatest 
possible  favor  to  do  the  work  he  is  paid  to  do,  but 
there  is  a  suggestion  that  if  any  nastiness  develops, 
hell  will  be  a  peaceful  place  compared  to  the  near 
vicinity  of  the  foreman  of  the  A-Y.  He  sizes  up 
a  thing  with  one  look,  and  then  tells  how  it  should 
be  done.  Everything  has  gone  off  so  fine  that 
I'm  going  to  ask  you  to  lose  a  good  man,  and 
real  soon,  too.  What  do  you  say,  Torn?" 

Blake  laughed :  "  Why,  we  were  a  plenty  before 
he  came  and  we'll  be  a  plenty  after  he  goes.  That's 

342 


The   Orphan   Goes  to  the  A-T 

for  your  asking  me  to  turn  him  over  to  you.  The 
boys  will  be  both  sorry  and  glad  to  have  him  leave, 
because  they  like  him  a  whole  lot.  But  of  course 
they  want  to  see  him  land  everything  that  he  can, 
so  they'll  give  him  a  good  send-off.  That  reminds 
me  to  say  that  I  know  they  will  want  to  be  on  hand 
when  you  break  the  news  to  him.  It'll  be  a  circus 
for  your  Eastern  friend,  Miss  Ritchie." 

"Now  you're  talking!"  enthused  the  sheriff. 
"  I  want  to  have  as  many  fireworks  at  the  ceremony 
as  I  can  possibly  get.  Oh,  it'll  be  a  great  day,  all 
right.  We  are  all  going  out  and  take  a  bang-up 
lunch,  just  like  we're  going  on  that  picnic  that  Bill's 
been  so  worried  about,  and  Bill  is  going  to  drive 
the  women  over  in  his  coach.  The  first  surprise 
will  be  the  announcement  of  the  new  ownership 
of  the  A-Y,  and  right  on  top  of  it  I'm  going  to  fire 
the  second  gun.  I  hope  none  of  your  boys  know 
anything  about  it,"  he  added  with  anxiety. 

"  Not  a  thing,"  hastily  replied  the  foreman. 
"  You  have  your  wife  send  a  message  to  me  by  Joe 
when  he  rustles  our  mail  to-morrow  and  ask  us  to 
come  to  the  picnic  at  the  A-Y  on  the  day  which 
you  will  decide  on.  They'll  go,  all  right,  no  fear 
about  that.  Nothing  more  than  your  wife's  cook- 

343 


The   Orphan 


ing  is  needed  to  attract  them,"  and  he  laughed 
heartily  at  how  suddenly  they  would  come  to  life 
at  such  a  summons. 

Shields  thought  intently  for  a  few  seconds  and 
then  slapped  his  thigh:  "  I've  got  it!  "  he  exulted. 
"  I'll  ride  over  to  your  place  with  you  and  write 
a  letter  to  my  wife  telling  her  just  what  to  do.  Joe 
can  deliver  it  and  bring  back  the  invitation.  You 
see,  I  won't  be  home  to-night,  but  that  will  do  the 
trick,  all  right.  Now,  what  do  you  say  to  this 
coming  Saturday  ? — this  is,  let  me  see :  Wednesday. 
Will  that  be  time  enough  for  you  to  make  any 
arrangements  you  may  want  to  make?  " 

"  Shore,  plenty  of  time,"  Blake  laughed.  "  It's 
good  all  the  way.  Joe  will  be  delighted  to  have 
a  real  good  excuse  to  call  at  your  house.  He's  a 
bashful  cuss,  like  all  the  rest.  They  talk  big,  but 
they're  some  bashful  all  the  same.  He's  been 
worrying  about  it,  for  one  day  he  came  to  me  with 
a  funny  expression  on  his  face  and  acted  like  he 
didn't  know  how  to  begin.  So  I  asked  him  what 
was  troubling  him,  and  he  blurted  out  like  this,  as 
near  as  I  can  remember: 

1  Well,  you  know  Mrs.  Shields  said  we  was  to 
go  to  her  house  when  any  of  us  hit  town  ?  '  he  asked. 

344 


The   Orphan   Goes  to  the  A-T 

"  t  I  shore  do,'  I  answered,  wondering  what 
was  up. 

"  '  Well,  I  go  to  town  a  lot,  and  it  takes  a  h — 1 
of  a  lot  of  gall  to  do  it,'  he  complained,  looking 
so  serious  that  it  was  funny. 

"  '  Gall!  '  said  I,  surprised  like,  and  trying  to 
keep  my  face  straight.  '  Gall !  Well,  I  can't  see 
that  it  takes  such  a  brave  man  to  call  at  a  friend's 
house  when  he's  been  told  to  do  it.' 

"  '  Oh,  that  part  of  it  is  all  right,"  he  replied. 
'  But  she'll  think  I  only  call  to  get  my  face  fed,  and 
it  makes  me  feel  like  a — I  don't  know  what.  You 
see,  I  always  get  away  quick.' 

"  '  Well,  stay  longer,  there  ain't  no  use  of  being 
in  a  hurry,'  I  said.  '  Stay  and  talk  a  while.' 

"  '  Then  they'll  think  I  ain't  got  enough  and 
push  more  pie  at  me,  like  they  did  once,'  he  com 
plained. 

"  '  Suppose  I  give  Silent  your  terrible  ordeal  to 
do,'  I  suggested  tentatively,  '  or  Bud,  he's  dead 
anxious  for  your  job.' 

"  '  Oh,  it  ain't  as  bad  as  that!  '  he  cried  quickly. 
1 1  only  thought  that  I'd  speak  to  you  about  it.  I 
thought  you  could  suggest  something.' 

"  '  Well,'  I  replied,  '  every  time  you  call  you 
345 


The    Orphan 


say  I  sent  you  over  to  ask  about  the  sheriff's  health. 
How'll  that  do?' 

"  He  grinned  sheepishly  and  then  swore : 
1  H — 1,  that  would  make  a  shore  enough  mess 
of  it,'  he  cried.  *  I'd  be  a  royal  American  idiot  to 
say  a  thing  like  that,  now,  wouldn't  I?  '  " 

The  sheriff  laughed  heartily,  and  they  talked 
about  the  picnic  until  they  had  reached  the  ranch- 
house,  where  he  wrote  the  note  to  his  wife.  Bid 
ding  his  friend  good-by,  he  rode  out  past  the 
corrals  and  headed  for  the  A-Y. 

When  about  half-way  to  his  own  ranch,  and  on 
A-Y  ground,  he  surmounted  a  rise  and  saw  a  figure 
flit  from  sight  behind  a  thicket,  and  his  curiosity 
was  immediately  aroused.  Not  knowing  who  the 
man  might  be,  he  stalked  his  quarry  and  finally 
found  Bucknell  standing  beside  his  horse. 

"Well,  what's  the  trouble  now?"  the  sheriff 
asked  as  he  came  out  into  sight.  He  was  danger 
ously  near  angry,  for  Bucknell  was  on  forbidden 
ground  and  was  flushed  as  if  from  liquor. 
"What's  the  trouble?"  he  repeated. 

Bucknell  looked  confused:  "Nothing,  Sheriff. 
Why?"  he  asked,  evading  the  searching  gaze  of 
the  peace  officer. 

346 


The   Orphan   Goes  to  the  A-T 

"  Oh,  I  thought  something  might  have  gone 
wrong  on  the  Cross  Bar-8,  and  that  you  were  look 
ing  for  me,"  Shields  coldly  replied. 

Bucknell  looked  at  the  ground  and  coughed  nerv 
ously  before  he  replied,  which  only  made  the  sheriff 
all  the  more  determined  to  get  at  the  matter  in  a 
true  light. 

"  No,  nothing's  wrong,"  replied  the  puncher. 
"  I  was  just  riding  out  this  way — I  was  some  nerv 
ous,  that's  all." 

"That  don't  go  with  me!"  the  sheriff  said 
sharply.  "  I've  lived  too  long  to  bite  on  a  yarn 
like  that.  Why,  you  can't  look  at  me  1  " 

The  puncher  did  not  reply  and  the  sheriff 
continued : 

"  Now,  look  here,  Bucknell,  take  some  good 
advice  from  me — stay  on  your  ranch,  mind  your 
own  business  and  let  liquor  alone.  As  sure  as  you 
monkey  around  the  Star  C  Blake  will  give  you  a 

d n  sound  licking,  and  he's  man  enough  to  do 

it,  too,  make  no  error.  And  as  for  the  A-Y,  well, 
the  temporary  foreman  of  that  ranch  is  the  cleverest 
man  with  a  gun  that  I  ever  saw,  and  I've  seen 
some  good  ones  in  my  time.  If  you  go  up  against 
him  you'll  get  shot,  for  he'd  think  you  were  about 

347 


The   Orphan 


the  easiest  proposition  he  ever  met.  As  sure  as  you 
drink  you'll  get  drunk,  and  as  sure  as  you  get  drunk 
you'll  work  up  an  appetite  for  a  fight,  and  if  you 
pick  a  fight  with  him  you'll  never  know  what  hit 
you.  You  stick  to  water  and  the  Cross  Bar-8." 

"  Oh,  I  reckon  I  can  take  care  of  my  own  busi 
ness,"  sullenly  replied  Bucknell.  "  I  can  come  out 
here  drunk  or  sober  if  I  wants  to,  I  reckon." 

"  You  can  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  rejoined 
the  sheriff.  "  And  you  certainly  ought  to  be  able 
to  take  care  of  your  own  business,  as  you  say,"  he 
retorted,  holding  his  temper  with  an  effort.  "  But 
in  the  past  you  didn't,  and  you  may  not  in  the 
future.  And  when  your  business  gets  too  big  for 
you  to  handle  it  gets  into  my  hands,  and  if  you 

make  any  trouble  I'll  d n  soon  convince  you 

that  I  can  handle  your  surplus.  Now,  get  out  of 
here  and  think  it  over." 

Bucknell  swung  into  his  saddle  and  then  turned, 
the  liquor  making  him  reckless. 

"  D n  it !  "  he  cried.     "  The  Orphant  killed 

Jimmy  and  a  whole  lot  more  good  cow-punchers! 

He's  nothing  but  a  murdering  thief,    a   d d 

rustler,  that's  what  he  is!  And  you  are  his  best 
friend,  it  seems !  " 

348 


The  Orphan   Goes  to  the  A-T 

The  war  smile  flickered  across  the  sheriff's  face, 
but  still  he  refrained,  for  such  is  the  foolish  con 
sideration  given  by  brave  men  to  liquor.  A  drunk 
ard  may  do  much  with  impunity,  for  the  argument 
states  he  is  not  responsible,  forgetting  that  in  the 
beginning  he  was  responsible  enough  to  have  left 
liquor  alone,  and  that  injury,  whether  unintentional 
or  not,  is  still  injury. 

"  There  is  no  seem  about  it!  "  he  retorted.  "  I 
am  his  best  friend,  and  he  needs  friends  bad  enough, 
God  knows.  But  speaking  of  murder,  those  four 
good  cow-punchers  that  stopped  me  in  the  defile 
tried  hard  enough  to  qualify  at  it,  and  The  Orphan 
not  only  saved  me,  but  also  some  of  them,  for  I'd 
a  gotten  some  of  them  before  I  cashed.  You're 
a  h — 1  of  a  fine  cub  to  talk  about  murders,  you 
are!" 

"That's  all  right,"  retorted  Bucknell,  "he's 
just  what  I  said  he  was.  And  a  side  pardner  of 
our  brave  sheriff,  too !  " 

"  D n  you !  "  shouted  Shields,  his  face  dark 

with  passion.  "  You  have  said  enough,  any  more 
from  you  and  I'll  break  your  dirty  neck!  Just 
because  I  felt  sorry  for  you  when  you  got  half 
killed  in  the  saloon  and  let  you  stay  in  the  country 

349 


The   Orphan 


don't  think  you  are  the  boss  of  this  section.  When 
I  saw  what  a  pitiful,  drunken  wreck  you  were,  I 
felt  sorry  for  you,  but  not  any  more.  You  don't 
want  decent  treatment,  you  want  to  get  clubbed, 
and  you're  right  in  line  to  get  just  what  you  need, 
too !  Now,  I'm  not  going  to  stand  any  more  of 

your  d d   foolishness — my  patience  is  played 

out.  And  if  you  were  half  a  man  you  wouldn't 
sit  there  like  a  bump  on  a  log  and  swallow  what 
I'm  saying — you'd  put  up  a  fight  if  you  died  for  it. 
You  are  no  good,  just  a  drunken,  lawless  fool  of 
a  puncher;  just  a  bag  of  wind,  and  it's  up  to  you 
to  walk  a  chalk  line  or  I'll  give  you  a  taste  of  what 
I  carry  around  with  me  for  bums  of  your  kind. 
What  in  h — 1  do  you  think  I  am?  No,  you 
don't,  you  stay  right  where  you  are  'til  I  get  good 

and  ready  to  have  you  go !     You've  come  d d 

near  the  end  of  your  rope  and  there  is  just  one 
thing  for  you  to  do,  and  that  is,  get  out  of  this 
country  and  do  it  quick!  You  stay  on  your  own 
side  of  the  Limping  Water,  for  if  I  catch  you  rid 
ing  off  any  nervousness  off  of  Cross  Bar-8  ground 
without  word  from  your  foreman,  I'll  shoot  you 
down  like  I'd  shoot  a  coyote!  And  for  a  dollar 
I'd  wipe  up  the  earth  with  you  right  now!  You 

350 


The   Orphan   Goes  to  the  A-T 

d d,  sneaking,  cowardly  cur,  you  tin-horn 

bully!  Pull  your  stakes  and  get  scare  and  don't 
you  open  your  mouth  to  me — come  on,  lively ! 
Pull  your  freight!" 

Bucknell  slowly  rode  away,  his  eyes  to  the 
ground  and  not  daring  to  say  what  seethed  in  his 
heart.  He  swore  to  himself  that  he  would  get 
square  some  day  on  both,  not  realizing  in  his  anger 
that  when  sober  he  feared  them  both. 

The  sheriff  stared  after  him  and  then  returned 
to  the  point  where  he  had  left  his  horse.  As  he 
mounted  he  shook  his  head  savagely  and  swore. 
Glancing  again  after  the  puncher  he  struck  into  a 
canter  and  rode  toward  the  ranch. 


351 


CHAPTER    XX 

BILL   ATTENDS   THE   PICNIC 

THE  picnic  aroused  quite  a  stir  for  so  frivo 
lous  a  thing.  When  Blake  read  Mrs. 
Shields'  invitation  to  the  outfit  they  acted 
like  schoolboys  dismissed  for  a  vacation.  Grins  of 
delight  were  the  style  on  the  Star  C,  and  the  over 
flow  of  bubbling  happiness  took  the  form  of  practi 
cal  joking  against  Humble,  whose  life  suddenly 
held  much  anxiety.  In  Ford's  Station  there  was 
an  air  of  expectancy,  and  Bill  spent  all  of  Saturday 
morning  from  daylight  until  time  to  start  in  clean 
ing  his  stage  and  grooming  the  horses,  whose 
astonishment  quickly  passed  into  prohibitive  indig 
nation.  After  narrowly  escaping  broken  bones 
and  chewed  arms  Bill  decided  that  the  sextet  could 
go  as  it  was. 

"  Serves  'em  right !  "  he  yelled  to  his  friendly 
enemy,  the  clerk,  after  he  had  barely  dodged  a 
vicious  kick,  wildly  waving  a  curry  comb.  "  Let 

352 


Bill  Attends  the  Picnic 


the  ignoramuses  go  like  they  are !  Let  'em  show 
how  cheap  and  common  they  are !  They  never  was 
any  good  for  anything,  anyhow,  eating  their  heads 
off  and  kicking  their  best  friend!  " 

"  How  about  the  time  they  beat  out  them 
Apaches?"  asked  the  clerk,  settling  back  com 
fortably  against  the  coach. 

"You  get  out!"  yelled  Bill  pugnaciously. 
"Who  asked  you  for  talk,  hey?  And  get  away 
from  that  coach,  you  idiot,  you'll  dirty  it  all  up !  " 

"Sic  'em,  Tige!"  jeered  the  clerk  pleasantly. 
"Chew  'em  up!" 

"What!  "  yelled  Bill,  swiftly  grabbing  up  the 
pail  of  water  which  stood  near  him.  "  Sic  'em, 
is  it!"  he  cried,  running  forward.  "Chew  'em 
up,  hey!  "  he  continued,  heaving  the  contents  of  the 
pail  at  the  clerk,  who  nimbly  sprang  inside  the  vehi 
cle  and  slammed  the  door  shut  behind  him  as  the 
water  struck  it.  He  leaped  out  of  the  other  door 
and  was  safely  away  before  Bill  realized  what  had 
happened.  Then  the  driver  said  things  when  he 
saw  the  mess  he  had  made  of  the  coach,  upon 
which  he  had  spent  two  hard  hours  in  polishing. 

"  Suffering  dogs !  "  he  shouted,  dancing  first  on 
one  foot  and  then  on  the  other.  "  Now  look  what 

353 


The   Orphan 


you've  done!  You're  a  h — 1  of  a  feller,  you  are! 
After  me  rubbing  the  skin  off'n  my  hands  and 
breaking  my  arms  a-polishing  it  up!  You  good 
for  nothing,  mangy  half-breed !  Wait  till  I  get  a 
hold  of  you,  you  long  pair  of  legs,  you!  Just 
wait!  I'll  show  you,  all  right!  " 

The  clerk  twiddled  his  fingers  from  afar  and 
jeered  in  his  laughter :  u  Serves  you  right !  Sic  'em, 
Towser !  Eat  'em  up,  Fido !  Sic  'em,  sic  'em !  " 
he  shouted  joyously,  and  forthwith  ran  for  his  life. 

Bill  returned  to  the  coach  and  worked  like  mad 
to  undo  the  evil  effects  he  had  wrought  and  finally 
succeeded  in  bringing  a  phantom  glow  to  the  time- 
battered  wood.  Then  he  hitched  up  and  drove  to 
the  sheriff's  house,  where  he  saw  huge  baskets  on 
the  porch. 

"  Good  morning,  Mrs.  Shields,"  he  said  as  he 
stamped  to  the  door.  "  Good  morning,  ladies." 

"  Good  morning  William,"  replied  the  sheriff's 
wife  as  she  hurried  to  collect  shawls  and  blankets. 
"  Will  you  mind  putting  those  baskets  on  the  coach, 
William?  We  will  soon  be  ready." 

'  Why,  certainly  not,  ma'am,"  he  answered, 
recklessly  grabbing  up  the  two  largest.  "  Jim- 
minee !  "  he  exulted.  "  These  are  shore  heavy,  all 

354 


Bill  Attends  the  Picnic 


right,  all  right!  Must  be  plumb  full  of  good 
things !  To-day  is  where  your  Uncle  Bill  Hallo- 
way  gets  square  for  the  dinner  the  company  froze 
him  out  of.  Wonder  if  there's  apricot  pie  in  this 
one?  "  he  mused  curiously.  He  gingerly  raised  the 
cover  and  a  grin  distorted  his  face.  "  Must  be  six, 
yes,  eight — mebby  ten !  "  he  soliloquized  as  he 
placed  it  on  the  stage.  "  Hullo,  bottles  of  some 
kind,"  he  whispered  as  he  picked  up  another  bas 
ket.  "  Hear  the  little  devils  clink,  eh?  Must  be 
coffee  and  tea,  hey?  Yes,  shore  enough  it  is.  Good 
Lord,  how  hungry  I  am — wish  I  had  eaten  that 
breakfast  this  morning — how  in  thunder  did  I  know 
we  was  going  to  be  so  late?  I'll  be  the  strong  man 
at  this  picnic,  all  right !  " 

"  Here  are  some  blankets,  William,"  called  Mrs. 
Shields.  "  Helen,  would  you  mind  showing  him 
how  to  carry  that  box? — he's  sure  to  turn  it  upside 
down  if  you  don't." 

"  Next!  "  he  cried,  returning  from  the  trip  with 
the  blankets.  "  I  put  them  blankets  up  on  top, 
Mrs.  Shields,  is  it  all  right?  How  do  you  do, 
Miss  Helen,  any  more  freight?  " 

"  How  do  you  do,"  she  replied.  "  This  box 
is  to  go,  please.  Now,  do  be  very  careful  not  to 

355 


Th e   Orphan 


turn  it  up,  or  jar  it!  "  she  warned.  u  And  put  it 
on  the  seat  inside  the  coach  where  we  can  steady  it." 

"  Gee,  what's  in  it?"  asked  Bill,  nearly  dying 
from  his  curiosity.  "  Must  be  the  joker  of  the 
feast,  eh?" 

"  Three  layer  cakes,"  she  laughingly  replied. 
"  Chocolate,  cocoanut  and  lemon." 

"  Um !  "  he  said.  "  I'll  carry  this  one  high  up, 
it  deserves  it." 

"  Oh,  do  be  careful !  "  she  cried  as  he  swooped 
it  up  to  his  shoulder.  "  Oh!  "  she  screamed  as  it 
thumped  against  the  top  of  the  door  frame. 

"  Whoa!  Back  up!  "  cried  Bill,  executing  the 
order.  "  Easy,  boy — all  right,  off  we  go !  " 

"  Grace,  Mary,"  cried  Helen,  "  we  are  all  ready 
to  go!" 

"  Ain't  there  any  more  boxes?  "  asked  Bill  from 
the  coach. 

"  Come,  girls,"  cried  Mrs.  Shields  as  she  stepped 
into  the  coach.  "  Close  the  door  after  you,  and 
lock  it,  dear." 

Bill  gallantly  helped  the  ladies  into  the  coach, 
grinned  at  the  cake  box  and  started  toward  the 
front  wheel  when  he  was  called  back. 

"  Now,    William,"     cautioned     Mrs.     Shields, 

356 


Bill  Attends  the  Picnic 


laughing.     "  We  will  not  be  pursued  by  Apaches 
to-day,  and  this  cake  must  not  be  shaken  1  " 

"  You  won't  know  you're  riding,  ma'am,  you 
shore  won't,"  he  assured  her  as  he  danced  toward 
the  front  wheel  again. 

"  Wake  up  there,  you !  "  he  yelled  from  the  box. 
"  Come  on,  Jerry,  think  you're  glued  to  the  earth? 
Come  on,  Tom!  Easy  there,  you  fool  jackrabbit! 
— haven't  you  learned  that  you  can't  reach  this 
high!" 

When  they  had  arrived  at  the  A-Y  the  baskets 
were  carried  into  the  ranch-house  and  the  women 
became  very  busy  getting  things  ready  for  the  feast. 
Bill  took  care  of  his  team  and  then  carried  the 
blankets  to  the  grove. 

While  the  picnic  was  being  prepared  there  arose 
a  series  of  blood-curdling  whoops  off  to  the  south 
where  the  outfit  of  the  Star  C  made  the  air  blue 
with  powder  smoke.  As  they  came  nearer  some 
thing  peculiar  was  noticed  by  Helen.  It  appeared 
to  be  a  sort  of  drag  drawn  by  a  horse  and  supported 
by  two  long,  springy  poles,  one  end  of  which  rested 
on  the  ground,  and  the  other  fastened  to  the  sad 
dle.  While  she  wondered  Bill  came  up  and  shq 
turned  to  him  for  light. 

357 


The   Orphan 


11  What  have  they  got  fastened  to  that  horse?  " 
she  asked  him. 

'He  looked  and  then  smiled:  "  Why,  it  is  a 
travois,"  he  said.  "  But  what  under  the  sun  have 
they  got  on  it?  They  must  be  bringing  their  own 
grub !  " 

The  travois  dragged  and  bumped  over  the  un 
even  plain  and  soon  came  near  enough  for  its 
burden  to  be  made  out.  A  man  and  a  dog  were 
strapped  to  it. 

At  this  point  Blake  joined  Helen  and  Bill,  and 
as  he  did  so  he  espied  the  travois. 

"Thunder!"  he  cried,  running  forward. 
"  Somebody  is  hurt!  What's  the  matter,  Silent?  " 
he  shouted. 

"  Matter?  "  asked  Silent,  in  surprise  as  the  out 
fit  drew  near.  "  There  ain't  nothing  the  matter. 
Why?" 

"What's  that  travois  doing  with  you,  then?" 
Blake  demanded. 

Silent's  face  was  as  grave  as  that  of  an  owl. 
"Travois?"  he  asked.  Then  his  face  cleared: 
"  Oh,  yes — I  near  forgot  about  it,"  he  added,  apol 
ogetically.  "  You  see,  Humble  he  shore  wanted 
his  dog  to  come  to  the  picnic,  so  we  reckoned  we'd 

358 


Bill  Attends  the  Picnic 


let  it  come  along.  Bud  and  Jim  was  for  slinging  it 
at  the  end  of  a  rope  and  dragging  it  over,  but  I 
said  no.  We  ain't  got  any  ropes  to  have  all  frayed 
out  and  cut  a-dragging  dogs  to  picnics,  and  I  said 
so,  too.  So  we  built  the  travois  and  strapped  Light 
ning  to  it.  When  Humble  saw  what  we  had  done 
he  acted  real  unpolite.  He  said  as  how  he  wasn't 
going  to  have  no  dog  of  his'n  toted  twenty  miles 
in  a  fool  travois.  Said  that  he'd  make  it  stay  home 
first,  which  was  some  mean  after  inviting  the  dog 
to  come  along.  He  said  that  he'd  go  in  a  travois 
himself  first  before  he'd  let  the  setter  be  made  a 
fool  of.  Well,  we  simply  had  to  subdue  him,  and 
he  got  so  unreasonable  that  we  just  had  to  tie  him 
with  his  dog.  He  shore  does  get  awful  pig-headed 
at  times. 

"  Take  off  the  gag,  Jim,"  requested  Silent,  turn 
ing  to  the  grinning  cow-puncher.  "  Let  him  loose 
now,  we've  arrived." 

Jim  leaned  over  and  whispered  in  Humble's  ear, 
the  information  being  that  there  were  ladies  about, 
and  that  all  swearing  must  be  thought  and  not 
yelled.  Then  he  slipped  the  gag,  and  untied  the 
ropes.  Gales  of  laughter  met  the  angry  and  indig 
nant  puncher  when  he  had  leaped  to  his  feet,  and 

359 


The   Orphan 


he  flashed  one  quick  glance  at  the  women  and  then, 
boiling  with  wrath  and  suppressed  profanity,  fled 
toward  the  corrals  as  swiftly  as  cramped  muscles 
would  allow.  The  dog  snarled  at  its  tormentors 
and  then  set  off  in  hot  pursuit  of  its  discomfited 
master,  whose  waving  arms  kept  time  with  his 
speeding  legs. 

"  That's  all  the  thanks  we  get,"  grumbled  Bud, 
"  but  then,  he  don't  know  any  better  anyhow." 

:  Blake  laughed  and  regarded  his  grinning  and 
expectant  outfit,  and  the  longer  he  looked  at  them 
the  more  he  laughed.  They  had  paid  their  respects 
to  the  women  while  Silent  explained  about  the 
travois  and  now  they  cast  many  longing  glances  at 
the  blankets  and  cloths  spread  out  on  the  grass  and 
at  the  baskets  which  Bill  was  busy  over.  They  had 
tried  to  coax  the  driver  to  them  to  give  information 
as  to  what  they  might  expect  in  the  way  of  edibles, 
but  he  had  haughtily  and  disdainfully  refused  to 
enlighten  them,  taking  care,  however,  to  arouse 
their  curiosity  by  looking  fondly  at  the  box  and  the 
baskets  and  even  showed  his  elation  by  taking 
several  fancy  steps  for  their  benefit. 

"  Well,   get   rid  of  the   cayuses,"   said   Blake, 
"  and  square  things  with  Humble.    Bring  him  back 

360 


Bill  Attends  the  Picnic 


with  you  or  you  don't  get  any  pie.  You're  such  a 
darn  fool  crowd  that  I  can't  get  mad  this  time, 
but  don't  ever  drag  a  man  in  a  travois  again." 

"Did  he  come,  or  was  he  kidnapped?"  mur 
mured  Bud.  "  What  we  did  once  we  can  do  again, 
and  Humble  will  be  on  hand  when  the  feast 
begins." 

Jim  had  been  scowling  at  Bill,  whose  manners 
were  most  aggravating.  "  You  just  wait,  you 
heathen,"  threatened  Jim.  "  You're  ace  high  with 
the  grub,  all  right,  but  just  you  wait  'til  we  get  you 
alone!" 

"Yah!"  laughed  the  driver.  "I  shore  can 
handle  the  best  cow-wrastler  that  ever  lived." 

"  Bill  seems  to  be  running  this  here  festival," 
Bud  complained  to  Helen. 

"  Oh,  he  is  our  right-hand  man,"  she  replied 
with  enthusiasm.  "  We  couldn't  possibly  get  along 
without  him,  now.  He  has  charge  of  the  pie  and 
cake." 

Bill's  chest  expanded:  "  I'm  foreman  of  the  pie 
and  cake  herd,"  he  exclaimed  proudly.  "  You 
can't  get  ahead  of  me." 

Bud  looked  at  the  driver  and  then  significantly 
waved  his  hand  at  the  travois :  "  And  you'll  shore 

361 


The   Orphan 


travel  in  style,  just  like  a  real  pie  foreman,  too, 
when   we   gets   a   chance   to    honor   you    like   we 


wants  to." 


"  You'll  get  no  pie  if  you  acts  smart,  little  boy," 
retorted  the  driver.  "  Run  along  and  play  till 
lunch  is  ready,  and  don't  dirty  your  hands  and 
face." 

"  Well,  weVe  got  fine  memories,"  Bud  sug 
gested  as  he  led  the  way  to  the  corrals,  where 
he  found  The  Orphan. 

"  Hullo,  Orphan !  "  he  cried  enthusiastically  as 
he  gripped  the  outstretched  hand.  "  Plumb  glad 
to  see  you.  How's  things?  " 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  boys,"  cried  the  temporary 
foreman,  who  was  all  smiles.  "  One  at  a  time!  " 
he  laughed  as  they  crowded  about  him.  u  Make 
yourselves  right  at  home — that  smallest  corral  is 
for  your  cayuses.  And  you'll  find  plenty  of  soap 
and  water  and  towels  by  the  bunk-house,  and  there's 
a  box  of  good  cigars,  a  tin  of  tobacco,  and  a  jug  on 
the  table  inside.  Help  yourself  to  anything  you 
want,  the  place  is  all  yours." 

"  Gee,  this  is  a  good  game,  all  right,"  Bud 
laughed  as  he  turned  to  put  his  horse  in  the  corral. 
"  The  sheriff  shore  knows  how  to  deal." 

362 


Bill  Attends  the  Picnic 


"  Leave  a  cigar  for  me,  Silent,"  jokingly  warned 
Jim  as  his  friend  turned  toward  the  bunk-house. 
"  Too  many  smokes  will  make  you  sick." 

"Well,  you've  got  a  gall,  all  right!  "  retorted 
Silent.  "  You  better  let  me  bring  yours  out  to 
you  and  keep  away  from  the  box,  for  I'm  always 
plumb  suspicious  of  these  goody-goody,  it's-for- 
your-own-good  people." 

A  crafty  look  came  to  Jack  Lawson's  face  and 
he  turned  to  The  Orphan :  "  Has  Bill  Howland 
got  his  cigars  yet?"  he  asked,  winking  at  his 
friends. 

"  Why,  I  don't  know  whether  he  has  or  not," 
replied  The  Orphan.  "But  I  don't  believe  that 
he  has  been  out  of  sight  of  the  pies  since  he  came. 
They've  got  him  in  a  trance." 

"  Guess  I'll  take  him  one,"  continued  Jack,  grin 
ning  broadly.  "  He  likes  to  smoke." 

"  Shore  enough,  go  ahead,"  endorsed  the  fore 
man  of  the  A-Y  as  he  turned  toward  the  grove. 
Then  he  stopped,  and  with  a  knowing  look  added : 
"  If  you  want  to  see  Humble,  he  just  went  in  the 
bunk-house." 

A  yell  of  dismay  arose  as  the  outfit  started  pell- 
mell  for  the  house.  Silent  entered  it  first  and  his 

363 


The    Orphan 


profanity  informed  his  companions  that  their  fears 
were  well  grounded.  Neither  Humble,  cigars, 
tobacco  nor  jug  were  to  be  seen,  and  a  search  was 
forthwith  instituted.  Jack  looked  at  a  distant  cor 
ral  and  saw  Lightning  as  the  dog  disappeared  from 
sight  into  it. 

"  Hey!  "  he  cried.  "  He's  in  the  big  corral— 
I  just  saw  his  dog  go  in,  and  it  was  wagging  its 
tail  a  whole  lot.  Come  on,  we'll  surround  it  and 
show  that  frisky  gent  a  thing  or  two !  " 

No  more  words  were  wasted,  and  in  a  very  short 
time  figures  were  creeping  around  the  corral.  Then 
there  was  a  scramble  as, most  of  the  searchers  scaled 
the  wall  at  different  points  while  two  of  them  ran 
in  through  the  gate.  The  first  thing  they  saw  was 
the  dog,  and  his  tail  was  still  wagging  as  he 
curiously  followed,  nose  to  the  ground,  a  huge 
horned  toad.  He  looked  up  at  the  sudden  disturb 
ance  and  backed  off  suspiciously,  looking  for  a  way 
to  escape. 

" !  "  chorused  the  fooled  punchers, 

who  discovered  that  deductions  don't  always  de 
duct,  and  then  they  returned  to  the  bunk-house  to 
"  slick  up."  When  finally  satisfied  about  their 
appearance  they  made  their  way  to  the  grove  and 

364 


Bill  Attends  the  Picnic 


the  sight  which  greeted  their  eyes  as  they  entered 
it  almost  made  them  drop  in  their  tracks. 

Humble  and  Bill  sat  cross-legged  on  a  blanket, 
which  was  surrounded  with  guns.  The  jug,  tobacco 
and  cigars  were  flanked  by  pies  and  a  cake,  while 
each  of  the  conspirators  held  a  lighted  cigar  in  one 
hand  while  they  took  turns  at  the  jug.  A  huge 
piece  of  pie  rested  in  a  plate  at  Humble's  side, 
while  Bill's  knee  held  a  piece  of  cake. 

"  Hands  up !  "  shouted  Humble,  grabbing  a 
gun.  "  Don't  you  dare  to  raid  the  gallery !  You 
stay  right  where  you  are !  " 

Bill's  blacksnake  whip  leaped  from  point  to  point 
experimentally,  picking  up  twigs  and  leaves  with 
disturbing  accuracy. 

The  invaders  halted  just  beyond  the  range  of 
the  whip  and  consulted  uneasily,  not  noticing  that 
the  driver  had  shortened  his  weapon  by  twice  the 
length  of  its  handle.  Finally  Jim  and  Docile  ran 
back  toward  the  corral  while  their  friends  waited 
impatiently  for  their  return,  grinning  at  the  enemy 
with  an  I-told-you-so  air. 

Bill  suddenly  leaned  forward,  the  whip  slid  down 
into  his  hand  to  the  end  of  the  handle  and  cracked 
viciously.  Joe  Haines,  who  had  grown  a  little 

365 


The   Orphan 


careless,  leaped  into  the  air  and  yelled,  grabbing 
at  his  leg. 

"  Keep  your  distance,  you !  "  warned  the  driver, 
trying  to  look  ferocious.  u  Twenty  feet  is  the 
dead-line,  children." 

Jim  and  Docile  returned  apace  and  brought  with 
them  half  a  dozen  lariats,  which  ranged  in  length 
from  thirty  to  forty  feet. 

"  Hey,  you !  "  cried  Humble  in  alarm.  "  That 
ain't  fair!" 

Grim  silence  was  the  only  reply  as  the  invaders 
each  took  his  rope  and  surrounded  the  two.  Then, 
suddenly,  the  air  was  full  of  darting  ropes  and  in 
.  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  of  it  the  pair  were 
hopelessly  and  helplessly  trussed.  Silent  ran  in  and 
hurled  the  whip  away  and  then  squatted  before 
the  prisoners,  throwing  their  cigars  after  the  whip 
as  he  took  up  the  pie  and  cake,  which  he  tantaliz- 
ingly  munched  before  their  eyes. 

"  I  like  a  hog,  all  right,  but  you  suit  me  too 
blamed  well !  "  asserted  Bud,  grabbing  at  Silent's 
pie. 

"  Gimme  some  of  that,"  demanded  Jim,  trying 
for  the  cake.  And  when  the  disturbance  had  ceased 
there  were  no  signs  of  either  pie  or  cake. 

366 


Bill  Attends  the  Picnic 


"  It's  the  travels  for  you,  Humble  dear!  "  softly 
hummed  Charley  Bailey.  "  And  to  the  ranch,  by 
the  way  of  town !  " 

"  And  Bill  will  be  pleased  to  explore  the  Limp 
ing  Water  on  the  bottom,"  amended  Jim.  "  One 
of  us  can  drive  the  women  home !  " 


36? 


CHAPTER    XXI 

THE   ANNOUNCEMENT 

A  OUT  thirty  people  sat  in  a  circle  on  the 
grass  in  the  grove  on  the  A-Y,  engaged  in 
taking  viands   from   the  well-filled  plates 
which  made  the  rounds.     Keen  humor  from  all 
sides  kept  them  in  roars  of  laughter,  Humble  and 
Bill  provoking  the  greater  part  of  it.    Humble  sat 
next  to  Miss  Ritchie,  while  The  Orphan  and  Bill 
flanked  Helen,  the  sheriff  next  to  his  new  foreman. 
Humble's  face  had  a  look  of  benign  condescension 
when  he  allowed  himself  to  bestow  perfunctory 
attentions  on  the  members  of  his  outfit,  whom  he 
graciously  called  "  purty  fair  punchers  in  a  way." 
Crawford,  the  former  owner  of  the  A-Y,  sat 
next  to  Shields,  and  when  the  lunch  had  reached 
the  cigar  stage  he  arose  and  cleared  his  throat. 

"  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  Bill  and  Humble,"  he 
began  amid  laughter.  "  I  have  been  regarded  as 
the  host  of  this  picnic,  and  the  false  position  embar- 

368 


The  Announcement 


rasses  me.  But  any  such  momentary  feeling  is 
compensated  by  the  importance  of  what  I  have  to 
tell  you. 

"  When  I  took  up  the  A-Y  it  was  with  a  deter 
mination  to  keep  it  and  to  spend  the  rest  of  my 
days  on  it  in  peace.  This  I  have  found  to  be 
impossible,  and  in  consequence  I  have  turned  it 
over  to  a  better  man.  The  energy  which  I  have 
seen  applied  in  the  right  way  for  the  last  few 
weeks  has  assured  me  that  the  A-Y  will  soon  be 
second  in  importance  and  wealth  to  no  ranch  in 
this  country.  I  have  seen  order,  system,  emerge 
from  chaos;  I  have  seen  five  thousand  cattle  re- 
branded  and  taken  care  of  in  such  dispatch  as  to 
astonish  me  and  be  almost  beyond  my  belief.  The 
sheriff  has  been  as  economical  in  the  use  of  his 
energy  as  he  can  be  in  the  use  of  his  words.  By 
that  I  don't  mean  in  the  way  that  is  causing  you  to 
smile,  but  simply  that  he  knows  how  to  accomplish 
the  most  work  with  the  least  possible  expenditure 
of  effort  and  time,  as  witnessed  by  the  condition 
of  this  ranch  to-day.  But  while  he  has  been  the 
guiding  spirit  in  the  work  of  putting  the  ranch 
on  its  proper  footing,  he  has  had  as  good  assistants 
as  it  is  possible  to  find. 


The   Orphan 


"  I  don't  wish  to  tire  you  with  any  long  speech, 
for  brevity  is  the  soul  of  more  than  wit,  so  I  will 
close  by  telling  you  that  the  A-Y  is  in  new  and 
better  hands — our  sheriff  is  now  its  owner,  and  I 
extend  to  him  my  heartiest  wishes  for  his  success 
in  his  new  venture.  I  must  thank  him  and  all  of 
you  for  a  very  pleasant  day  and  a  memory  to  take 
East  with  me." 

For  an  instant  there  was  intense  silence,  and 
then  a  small  battle  seemed  to  be  taking  place.  The 
noise  of  the  shooting  and  cheering  was  deafening 
and  smoke  rolled  down  like  a  heavy  fog.  The 
sheriff  met  the  rush  toward  him  and  put  in  a  very 
busy  few  minutes  in  shaking  hands  and  replying 
to  the  hearty  congratulations  which  poured  in 
upon  him  from  all  sides.  Everybody  was  happy 
and  all  were  talking  at  once,  and  Bill  could  be 
heard  reeling  off  an  unbroken  string  of  words  at 
high  speed. 

The  Orphan  fought  his  way  to  his  best  friend 
and  gripped  both  hands  in  his  own. 

"  By  God,  Sheriff!  "  he  cried.  "  This  is  great 
news,  and  I'm  plumb  glad  to  hear  it !  I  hope  you 
have  the  very  best  of  luck  and  that  your  returns, 
both  in  pleasure  and  money,  far  exceed  your  fond- 

370 


The  Announcement 


est  expectations.  Anything  I  can  do  is  yours  for 
the  asking." 

"  Thank  you,  son,"  replied  the  sheriff,  looking 
fondly  into  his  friend's  eyes.  "  I'm  going  to  call 
on  you  just  as  soon  as  I  can  make  myself  heard  in 
all  this  hellabaloo.  Just  listen  to  that!"  he  ex 
claimed  as  Silent  let  loose  again. 

"  Glory  be !  "  yelled  he  of  the  misleading  name, 
slapping  Humble  across  the  back.  "  For  this  you 
ride  home  like  a  white  man,  Humble — all  your 
sins  are  forgiven !  Hurrah  for  the  sheriff,  his 
family  and  the  A-Y !  "  he  shouted  at  the  top  of  his 
lungs,  and  his  cheer  was  supported  unanimously 
with  true  cowboy  enthusiasm  and  vim. 

"  Hurray  for  me,  too !  "  shouted  Bill  in  laugh 
ter.  Then  he  fled,  with  Silent  in  hot  pursuit. 

The  sheriff  tried  to  speak,  and  after  several 
attempts  was  finally  given  silence. 

"Thank  you,  everybody!"  he  cried,  his  face 
beaming.  "  I  am  happy  for  many  reasons  to-day, 
but  foremost  among  them  is  the  fact  that  I  have 
so  many  warm  and  loyal  friends.  The  A-Y  is 
always  open  to  all  of  you,  and  I'll  be  some  disap 
pointed  if  you  don't  put  in  a  lot  of  your  spare 
time  over  here." 

371 


The   Orphan 


He  paused  for  a  few  seconds  and  then  looked 
at  The  Orphan,  who  stood  at  Helen's  side. 

"  Mr.  Crawford  did  his  part  a  whole  lot  better 
than  I  can  do  mine,  I'm  afraid,  but  I'm  going 
to  do  my  best,  anyhow.  The  news  has  only  been 
half  told — the  name  of  the  new  foreman  of  the 
A-Y  henceforth  will  be  The  Orphan!  Whoop 
her  up,  boys !  "  he  shouted,  leading  a  cheer  which 
was  not  one  whit  less  a  cheer  than  those  which 
had  gone  before. 

The  Orphan  stared  in  astonishment,  for  once 
in  his  life  he  had  been  surprised.  The  sheriff  at 
last  had  the  drop  on  him.  He  looked  from  one 
to  another,  started  to  step  forward  and  then 
changed  his  mind  and  looked  appealingly  at  Helen, 
who  smiled  in  a  way  to  double  the  speed  of  his 
heart-beats. 

Her  eyes  were  moist,  and  the  sudden  conscious 
ness  that  she  formed  half  of  the  objective  of  all 
eyes  caused  her  cheeks  to  go  crimson.  Her  hand 
impulsively  went  to  his  shoulder  and  without 
thought  on  her  part,  and  his  incredulous  question 
ing  was  answered  by  her. 

"  It's  all  true,"  she  said  earnestly.  "  I've  known 
of  it  for  a  whole  week  now.  You  are  the  real 

372 


The  Announcement 


foreman  of  the  A-Y,  and  I  most  earnestly  hope 
for  your  success." 

He  suddenly  seemed  to  be  above  the  earth  and 
his  voice  broke  in  his  stammered  reply.  For  a 
fraction  of  a  second  her  eyes  had  told  him  what 
he  had  dreamed  of,  what  he  had  hoped  for  above 
all  things,  and  he  grasped  her  hand  for  a  second 
as  he  stepped  forward  toward  his  new  employer, 
whose  hand  met  his  with  a  man's  grasp. 

"  Thank  you,  Sheriff,"  he  said,  his  head  whirl 
ing  from  the  surprises  of  a  minute.  "  YouVe  been 
squarer  and  fairer  with  me  than  any  man  I've  ever 
known,  and  hell  will  look  nice  to  me  if  I  don't 
make  good  with  you. 

"Thank  you,  boys;  thank  you,  Bill:  you're  all 
right,  everyone  of  you !  "  he  cried  as  his  friends 
crowded  about  him.  "  What  the  sheriff  said  about 
warm  friends  was  the  truth — thank  you,  Bud  and 
Jim!  Thank  you,  Blake — you're  another  brick! 
Good  God,  what  I  have  gained  in  two  months !  I 
can  scarcely  believe  it,  it  seems  so  like  a  dream. 
That's  a  real  warm  grip,  all  right,  though,"  he 
exclaimed  as  he  shook  hands  with  Humble,  "  so  I 
reckon  it's  all  true.  Two  months !  "  he  marveled. 
"'Two  glorious,  glorious  months!  A  new  start 

373 


The   Orphan 


in  life,  a  loyal  crowd  of  friends,  a — and  all  in  two 
months!  And  there  is  the  man  I  owe  it  all 
to,"  he  suddenly  cried,  pointing  to  the  sheriff. 
"  There's  the  whitest  man  God  ever  made,  and 
I'll  kill  the  man  who  says  I  lie !  " 

"  Good  boy!  "  shouted  Bill  in  enthusiastic  en 
dorsement.  "  You  two  make  a  pair  of  aces  what 
can  beat  any  full-house  ever  got  together,  and  /'ll 
lick  the  man  who  says  /  lie !  "  he  yelled  pugna 
ciously.  "  The  Orphant  may  be  an  orphant,  all 
right,  but  he's  got  a  whole  lot  of  brothers." 

Mrs.  Shields  walked  over  to  The  Orphan  and 
placed  a  motherly  hand  on  his  shoulder  as  Jie 
uncovered. 

"•You  won't  be  an  orphan  any  longer,  my  boy," 
she  said,  smiling  up  at  him.  '  You're  one  of  us 
now — I  always  wanted  a  son,  and  God  has  given 
me  one  in  you." 


374 


CHAPTER    XXII 


TEX  WILLIARD'S  MISTAKE 


DURING  the  month  which  followed  the 
picnic  things  ran  smoothly  on  the  A-Y, 
and  the  rejuvenated  ranch  was  the  pride 
of  the  whole  contingent,  from  the  sheriff  down  to 
the  cook.  The  Orphan  had  taken  charge  with  a 
determination  which  grew  firmer  with  each  passing 
day  and  the  new  owner  was  delighted  at  the  out 
come  of  his  plans.  The  foreman,  elated  and 
happy  at  his  sudden  shift  in  fortune,  radiated 
cheerfulness  and  consideration.  His  men  knew 
that  he  would  not  ask  them  to  do  anything  which 
he  himself  feared  to  do,  which  would  not  have 
been  much  consolation  to  a  timid  man,  since  he 
feared  nothing;  but  to  them  it  meant  that  they 
had  a  foreman  who  would  stick  by  them  through 
fire  and  water,  and  a  foreman  who  commands 
respect  from  his  outfit  is  a  man  whose  life  is  made 
easy  for  him.  He  had  known  too  much  of  unkind- 

375 


The    Orphan 


ness,  harshness,  to  become  angry  at  mistakes;  in 
stead,  he  set  diligently  at  work  to  undo  them,  and 
mistakes  were  rare.  The  very  men  who  had  once 
wished  for  his  life  would  now  fight  instantly  to 
save  it.  They  were  proud  of  him,  of  the  owner, 
the  ranch  and  themeslves;  and  proudest  of  all  was 
Bill,  once  driver  of  the  stage,  but  now  a  cowboy 
working  hard  and  loyally  under  the  man  who  had 
once  held  him  up  for  a  smoke. 

Visitors  were  numerous,  and  every  man  who 
called  became  enthusiastic  about  the  ranch,  and 
after  he  had  departed  marveled  at  the  complete 
change  in  the  man  who  was  its  foreman,  and  felt 
confidence  in  the  good  judgment  of  the  sheriff. 
Ford's  Station  was  openly  jubilant,  for  the  town 
exulted  in  the  discomfiture  of  the  Cross  Bar-8  and 
in  the  proof  that  their  sheriff  was  right.  And 
Ford's  Station  chuckled  at  the  news  it  heard,  for 
the  foreman  of  the  Cross  Bar-8  had  called  twice  at 
the  A-Y  and  was  fast  losing  his  prejudice  against 
The  Orphan.  Sneed  had  found  a  quiet,  optimistic 
foreman  in  the  place  of  his  former  enemy,  and  the 
laughter  which  lurked  in  The  Orphan's  eyes  closed 
the  breach.  He  had  seen  the  man  in  a  new  light, 
and  when  he  had  said  his  farewell  at  the  close  of 

376 


Tex  Williard's  Mistake 


his  second  visit  the  grip  of  his  hand  was  strong. 
As  for  the  Star  C,  a  trail  had  been  worn  between 
the  two  ranches  and  hardly  a  day  passed  but  one 
or  more  of  its  punchers  dropped  in  to  say  a  few 
words  to  their  former  bunkmate,  and  to  stir  up 
Bill.  The  Star  C,  no  less  than  his  own  men,  swore 
by  The  Orphan. 

One  bright  morning  the  sheriff  left  for  a  trip  to 
Chicago  and  other  packing  cities  to  arrange  for 
future  cattle  shipments,  and  announced  that  he 
would  be  away  for  a  week  or  two.  On  the  night 
following  his  departure  trouble  began.  The  ranch 
and  bunk  houses  of  the  Cross  Bar-8  were  fired 
into,  and  when  Sneed  and  his  men  had  returned 
after  a  fruitless  search  in  the  dark  the  foreman 
stared  at  the  wall  and  swore.  Was  it  The  Orphan 
again?  In  the  absence  of  the  sheriff  had  he  re 
newed  the  war?  First  thought  cried  that  he  had, 
but  gradually  the  idea  became  untenable.  Why 
should  The  Orphan  risk  his  splendid  berth  on  the 
A-Y,  his  prospects  now  rich  in  promise,  to  work 
off  any  lingering  hatred?  When  Sneed  had  shaken 
hands  with  him  he  found  apparent  sincerity  in  the 
warm  clasp.  He  would  ride  over  at  daylight  and 
have  the  matter  settled  once  and  for  all.  And  if 

377 


The   Orphan 


satisfied  that  The  Orphan  was  guiltless  of  the  out 
rage  he  would  turn  his  whole  attention  to  the  imi 
tator  of  the  former  outlaw. 

The  Orphan  was  mending  his  saddle  girth  when 
he  saw  Sneed  cantering  past  the  farthest  corral. 
The  latter's  horse  bore  all  the  signs  of  hard  riding 
and  he  looked  up  inquiringly  at  the  visitor. 

"  Good  morning,  Sneed,"  he  said  pleasantly, 
arising  and  laying  aside  the  saddle.  "  What's  up, 
anything?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  came  over  to  find  out  about  it," 
Sneed  answered.  u  I  hardly  know  how  to  begin — 
but  here,  I'll  tell  it  from  the  beginning,"  and  he 
related  what  had  occurred,  much  to  the  wonder  of 
The  Orphan. 

"  Now,"  finished  the  visitor,  "  I  want  to  ask 

you  a  question,  although  I  may  be  a  d n  fool 

for  doing  it.  But  I  want  to  get  this  thing  thrashed 
out.  Do  you  know  who  did  it?  " 

The  foreman  of  the  A-Y  straightened  up,  his 
eyes  flashing,  and  then  he  realized  that  Sneed  had 
some  right  to  question  him  after  what  had  occurred 
in  the  past. 

"  No,  Sneed,  I  do  not,"  he  answered,  "  but  in 
two  guesses  I  can  name  the  man !  " 

378 


Tex   Milliard's  Mistake 


"  Good!  "  cried  Sneed.     "  Go  ahead!  " 
"Bucknell?" 

"  No,  he  was  with  me  in  the  bunk-house,"  re 
plied  the  foreman  of  the  Cross  Bar-8.  "  It  wasn't 
him — go  on." 

"Tex  Williard,"  said  The  Orphan  with  de 
cision. 

"Tex?"  cried  Sneed.     "Why?" 

"  It's  plain  as  day,  Sneed,"  The  Orphan  an 
swered.  "  He's  sore  at  me,  but  lacks  nerve." 

"  But,  thunderation,  how  would  he  hurt  you  by 
shooting  at  us?  "  Sneed  demanded,  impatiently. 

"  Oh,  he  would  scare  up  a  war  during  the  sher 
iff's  absence  by  throwing  your  suspicions  on  me. 
He  reckoned  you  would  think  that  I  did  it,  get 
good  and  mad,  fly  off  the  handle  and  raise  h — 1 
generally.  He  figured  that  I,  according  to  the  past, 
would  meet  you  half  way  and  that  you  or  some  of 
your  men  might  kill  me.  If  you  didn't,  he  reck 
oned  that  the  sheriff  would  kick  me  out  of  this 
berth,  and  that  one  or  both  of  us  might  get  killed 
in  the  argument.  He  could  sit  back  and  laugh  to 
himself  at  how  easy  it  was  to  square  up  old  scores 
from  a  distance.  It's  Tex  as  sure  as  I  am  here, 
and  unless  Tex  changes  his  plans  and  gets  out  of 

379 


T h e   Orphan 


this  country  d n  soon  he  won't  be  long  in  get 
ting  what  he  seems  to  ache  for." 

Sneed  pushed  back  his  sombrero  and  smiled 
grimly:  "  I  reckon  that  you're  right,"  he  replied. 
"  But  you  ain't  sore  at  the  way  I  asked,  are  you? 
I  had  to  begin  somewhere,  you  know." 

"Sore?"  rejoined  his  companion,  angrily. 
"  Sore?  I'm  so  sore  that  I'm  going  out  after  Tex 
right  now.  And  I'll  get  him  or  know  the  reason 
why,  too.  You  go  back  and  post  your  men  about 
this — and  tell  them  on  no  account  to  ride  over  my 
range  for  a  few  days,  for  they  might  get  hurt 
before  they  are  known.  Put  a  couple  of  them 
to  bed  as  soon  as  you  get  back — you  need  them 
to  keep  watch  nights." 

He  turned  toward  the  corral  and  called  to  a 
man  who  was  busy  near  it :  "  Charley,  you  take 
anybody  that  you  want  and  get  in  a  good  sleep 
before  nightfall.  I  will  want  both  of  you  to  work 
to-night." 

"  All  right,  after  dinner  will  be  time  enough," 
Charley  replied.  "  I'll  take  Lefty  Lukins." 

The  Orphan  went  into  the  ranch  house  and 
returned  at  once  with  his  rifle,  a  canteen  of  water 
and  a  package  of  food.  As  he  threw  a  saddle  on 

380 


Tex   Milliard's  Mistake 


his  horse  Bill  galloped  up,  waving  his  arms  and 
very  much  excited. 

"  Hey,  Orphant!  "  he  shouted.  "  Somebody's 
shore  enough  plugged  some  of  our  cows  near  the 
creek!  I  lost  his  trail  at  the  Cottonwoods!  " 

"  All  right,  Bill,"  replied  the  foreman,  "  I'll  go 
out  and  look  them  over.  You  take  another  horse 
and  ride  to  the  Star  C.  Tell  Blake  to  keep  watch 
for  Tex  Williard,  and  tell  him  to  hold  Tex  for  me 
if  he  sees  him.  Lively,  Bill!" 

Bill  stared,  leaped  from  his  horse,  took  the  sad 
dle  from  its  back  and  was  soon  lost  to  sight  in  the 
corral.  In  a  few  minutes  he  galloped  past  his 
foreman  and  Sneed  swearing  heartily.  His  quirt 
arose  and  fell  and  soon  he  was  lost  to  sight  over  a 
rise  near  the  ranch-house. 

The  foreman  of  the  A-Y  rode  over  to  Charley : 
"  Charley,  in  case  I  don't  get  back  to-night,  you 
and  Lefty  keep  guard  somewhere  out  here,  and 
shoot  any  man  who  don't  halt  at  your  hail.  If  I 
return  in  the  dark  I'll  whistle  Dixie  as  soon  as 
I  see  the  lights  in  the  bunk  house,  and  I'll  keep 
it  up  so  you  won't  mistake  me.  So  long." 

Sneed  and  he  cantered  away  together  and  soon 
they  parted,  the  former  to  ride  toward  his  ranch, 

381 


The   Orphan 


the  latter  toward  the  Cottonwoods  near  the  Limp 
ing  Water  and  along  the  trail  left  by  Bill. 

When  near  the  grove  The  Orphan  saw  five  dead 
cows  and  he  quickly  dismounted  to  examine  them. 

"  Not  dead  for  long,"  he  muttered  as  he  exam 
ined  the  blood  on  them.  He  leaped  into  his  sad 
dle  and  galloped  through  the  grove.  "  Now,  by 
God,  somebody  pays  for  them !  "  he  muttered. 

Here  was  a  sudden  change  in  things,  positions 
had  been  reversed,  and  now  he  could  appreciate 
the  feelings  which  he  had,  more  than  once,  aroused 
in  the  hearts  of  numerous  foremen.  He  emerged 
from  the  grove  and  rode  rapidly  along  the  trail 
left  by  the  perpetrator,  alert,  grim  and  angry. 
Soon  the  trail  dipped  beneath  the  waters  of  the 
creek  and  he  stopped  and  thought  for  a  few  sec 
onds.  If  it  was  Tex,  he  would  not  have  ridden 
toward  the  Cross  Bar-8  and  the  town,  and  neither 
would  he  have  ridden  south  toward  the  Star  C, 
nor  north  in  the  direction  of  the  A-Y.  He  would 
seek  cover  for  the  day  if  he  was  still  determined 
to  carry  on  his  game,  and  would  not  emerge  until 
night  covered  his  movements.  That  left  him  only 
the  west  along  the  creek,  and  more  than  that,  the 
creek  turned  to  the  south  again  about  five  miles 

382 


Tex   Milliard's  Mistake 


farther  on  and  flowed  far  too  close  to  the  ranch- 
houses  of  the  Star  C  for  safety.  He  must  have 
left  the  water  at  the  turn,  and  toward  the  turn 
rode  The  Orphan,  watching  intently  for  the  trail 
to  emerge  on  either  bank.  His  deductions  were 
sound,  for  when  he  had  rounded  the  bend  of  the 
stream  he  picked  up  the  trail  where  it  left  the 
water  and  followed  it  westward. 

The  country  around  the  bend  was  very  wild  and 
rough,  for  ravines  between  the  hills  cut  seams  and 
gashes  in  the  plain.  The  underbrush  was  shoulder 
high,  and  he  did  not  know  how  soon  he  might 
become  a  target.  The  trail  was  very  fresh  in  the 
soft  loam  of  the  ravines  and  the  broken  branches 
and  trampled  leaves  were  still  wet  with  sap.  Soon 
he  hobbled  his  horse  and  proceeded  on  foot,  but 
to  one  side  of  and  parallel  with  the  trail.  He  had 
spent  an  hour  in  his  advance  and  had  begun  to 
regret  having  left  his  horse  so  early,  when  he 
heard  the  report  of  a  gun  near  at  hand  and  a  bullet 
hissed  viciously  over  his  head  as  he  stooped  to  go 
under  a  low  branch. 

He  threw  up  his  arms,  the  rifle  falling  from  his 
hands,  pitched  forward  and  rolled  down  the  side 
of  the  hill  and  behind  a  fallen  tree  trunk  which 

383 


The   Orphan 


lay  against  a  thicket.  As  soon  as  he  had  gained 
this  position  he  glanced  in  the  direction  from 
whence  the  shot  had  come  and,  finding  himself 
screened  from  sight  on  that  side,  quickly  jerked 
off  his  boots  and  planted  them  among  the  bushes, 
where  they  looked  as  if  he  had  crawled  in  almost 
out  of  sight.  That  done,  he  crawled  along  the 
ground  under  the  protection  of  the  tree  trunk  and 
then  squirmed  under  it,  when  he  pushed  himself, 
feet  first,  deep  into  a  tangled  thicket  and  waited, 
Colt  in  hand,  for  a  sign  of  his  enemy's  approach. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  had  passed  in  silence  when 
a  shot,  followed  by  another,  sounded  from  the 
hillside.  After  the  lapse  of  a  like  interval  another 
shot  was  fired,  this  time  from  the  opposite  direc 
tion.  He  saw  a  twig  fall  by  the  boots  and  heard 
the  spat !  of  the  bullet  as  it  hit  a  stone.  Two  more 
shots  sounded  in  rapid  succession,  and  then  another 
long  interval  of  silence.  Half  an  hour  passed,  but 
he  was  not  impatient.  He  most  firmly  believed 
that  his  man  would,  sooner  or  later,  come  out  to 
examine  the  boots,  and  time  was  of  no  consequence : 
he  wanted  the  man. 

Whoever  he  was,  he  was  certainly  cautious,  he 
did  not  believe  in  taking  any  chances.  It  was 

384 


Tex   Milliard's  Mistake 


almost  certain  that  he  would  not  leave  until  he 
had  been  assured  that  he  had  accomplished  his 
purpose,  for  it  would  be  most  disconcerting  at 
some  future  time  to  unexpectedly  meet  the  man 
he  thought  he  had  murdered.  Another  shot 
whizzed  into  the  place  where  the  body  should  have 
been,  according  to  the  silent  testimony  of  the  boots. 
It  sounded  much  closer  to  the  thicket,  but  in  the 
same  direction  of  the  last  few  shots.  Then,  after 
ten  minutes  of  silence,  a  twig  snapped,  and  directly 
behind  the  thicket  in  which  The  Orphan  was  hid 
den!  The  foreman's  nerves  were  tense  now,  his 
every  sense  was  alert,  for  his  was  a  most  dangerous 
position.  He  quickly  glanced  over  his  shoulder 
into  the  thicket  and  found  that  he  could  not  pene 
trate  the  mass  of  leaves  and  branches,  which  reas 
sured  him.  He  was  very  glad  that  he  had  forced 
himself  well  into  the  cover,  for  soon  the  leaves 
rustled  and  a  pebble  rolled  not  more  than  four  feet 
off,  and  in  front  of  him,  slightly  at  his  right.  More 
rustling  and  then  a  head  and  shoulder  slowly 
pushed  past  him  into  view.  The  man  moved  very 
slowly  and  cautiously  and  was  crouched,  his  head 
far  in  advance  of  his  waist.  The  Orphan  could 
see  only  one  side  of  the  face,  the  angle  of  the  man's 

385 


T h e   Orphan 


jaw  and  an  ear,  but  that  was  enough,  for  he  knew 
the  owner.  Slowly  and  without  a  sound  the  fore 
man's  right  hand  turned  at  the  wrist  until  the  Colt 
gleamed  on  a  line  with  the  other's  heart.  The 
searcher  leaned  forward  and  to  one  side,  that  he 
might  better  see  the  boots,  when  a  sound  met  his 
ears. 

"  Don't  move,"  whispered  the  foreman. 

The  prowler  stiffened  in  his  tracks,  frozen  to 
rigidity  by  the  command.  Then  he  slowly  turned 
his  head  and  looked  squarely  into  the  gun  of  the 
man  he  thought  he  had  killed. 

"  Christ!  "  he  cried  hoarsely,  starting  back. 

"  I  don't  reckon  you'll  ever  know  Him,"  said 
The  Orphan,  his  voice  very  low  and  monotonous. 
"  Stand  just  as  you  are — don't  move — I  want  to 
talk  with  you." 

Tex  simply  stared  at  him  in  pitiful  helplessness 
and  could  not  speak,  beads  of  perspiration  stand 
ing  out  on  his  face,  testifying  to  the  agony  of  fear 
he  was  in. 

"  You're  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  game  again, 
Tex,"  The  Orphan  said  slowly,  watching  the 
puncher  narrowly,  his  gun  steady  as  a  rock.  "  You 
still  want  to  kill  me,  it  seems.  I've  given  you  your 

386 


Tex  Williard's  Mistake 


life  twice,  once  to  your  knowledge,  and  I  told  you 
with  the  sheriff  that  I  would  shoot  you  if  you  ever 
returned;  and  still  you  have  come  back  to  have 
me  do  it.  You  were  not  satisfied  to  let  things  rest 
as  they  were." 

Tex  did  not  reply,  and  The  Orphan  continued, 
a  flicker  of  contempt  about  his  lips. 

"  You  were  never  cast  for  an  outlaw,  Tex.  If 
I  do  say  it  myself,  it  takes  a  clever  man  to  live  at 
that  game,  and  I  know,  for  I've  been  all  through 
it.  As  you  see,  Sneed  and  I  didn't  shoot  each 
other,  for  the  play  was  too  plain,  too  transparent. 
You  should  have  ambushed  one  of  his  men,  burned 
his  corrals  and  slaughtered  his  cattle,  for  then  he 
might  have  shot  and  talked  later.  And  he  might 
have  gotten  me,  too,  for  I  was  unsuspecting.  I 
don't  say  that  I  would  kill  an  innocent  man  to 
arouse  his  anger  if  I  had  been  in  your  place,  I'm 
only  showing  you  where  you  made  the  mistake, 
where  you  blundered.  Had  you  killed  one  of  his 
men  it  is  very  probable  that  his  rage  would  have 
known  no  bounds,  but  as  it  was  the  provocation 
was  not  great  enough." 

Tex  remained  silent  and  unconsciously  toyed  at 
his  ear.  The  Orphan  looked  keenly  at  the  move- 

38? 


The   Orphan 


ment  and  wondered  where  he  had  seen  it  before, 
for  it  was  familiar.  His  face  darkened  as  memory 
urged  something  forward  to  him  out  of  the  dark 
catacombs  of  the  past,  and  he  stilled  his  breathing 
to  catch  a  clue  to  it.  He  saw  the  little  ranch  his 
father  had  worked  so  hard  over  to  improve,  and 
had  fought  hard  to  save,  and  then  the  picture  of 
his  dying  mother  came  vividly  before  him ;  but  still 
something  avoided  his  searching  thoughts,  some 
thing  barely  eluded  him,  trembling  on  the  edge  of 
the  Then  and  Now.  He  saw  his  father's  body 
slowly  swinging  and  turning  in  the  light  breeze  of 
a  perfect  day,  and  he  quivered  at  the  nearness  of 
what  he  was  seeking,  its  proximity  was  tantalizing. 
The  rope ! — the  rope  about  his  father's  neck  had 
been  of  manila  fiber;  he  could  never  forget  the 
soiled,  bleached-yellow  streak  which  had  led  up 
ward  to  Eternity.  And  manila  ropes  were,  at  that 
time,  a  rarity  in  that  part  of  the  country,  for  raw 
hide  and  braided-hair  lariats  had  been  the  rule. 
And  on  the  day  when  he  had  given  Tex  his  life  in 
the  defile  he  had  noticed  the  faded  yellow  rope 
which  had  swung  at  the  puncher's  saddle  horn. 
As  he  strained  with  renewed  hope  to  catch  the 
elusive  impression  another  scene  came  before  him. 

388 


Tex  Williard's  Mistake 


It  was  of  three  men  bent  over  a  cow,  engaged  in 
blotting  out  his  father's  brand,  and  instantly  the 
face  of  one  of  them  sprang  into  sharp  definition 
on  his  mental  canvas. 

"  D n  you !  "  he  cried,  his  finger  tightening 

on  the  trigger  of  the  Colt  which  for  so  many  years 
had  been  his  best  friend.  "  I  know  you  now, 
changed  as  you  are !  Now  I  know  why  you  have 
been  so  determined  for  my  death.  On  the  day 
that  I  cut  my  father  down  I  swore  that  I  would  kill 
the  man  who  had  lynched  him  if  kind  fate  let  me 
find  him,  and  I  have  found  him.  You  have  just 
five  minutes  to  live,  so  make  the  most  of  it,  you 
cowardly  murderer !  " 

Tex's  face  went  suddenly  white  again  and  his 
nerve  deserted  him.  His  Colt  was  in  his  hand, 
but  oh,  so  useless!  Should  he  fight  to  the  end? 
A  shudder  ran  through  him  at  the  thought,  for 
life  was  so  good,  so  precious;  far  too  precious  to 
waste  a  minute  of  it  by  dying  before  his  time  was 
up.  Perhaps  the  foreman  would  relent,  perhaps 
he  would  become  so  wrapped  up  in  the  memories 
of  the  years  gone  by  as  to  forget,  just  for  half  a 
second,  where  he  was.  The  watch  in  The 
Orphan's  hand  gave  him  hope,  for  he  would  wait 

389 


The   Orphan 


until  the  other  glanced  at  it — that  would  be  his 
only  hope  of  life. 

The  foreman's  watch  ticked  loudly  in  the  palm 
of  his  left  hand  and  the  Colt  in  his  right  never 
quivered.  The  first  minute  passed  in  terrifying 
silence,  then  the  second,  then  the  third,  but  all  the 
time  The  Orphan's  eyes  stared  steadily  at  the  man 
before  him,  gray,  cruel,  unblinking. 

"  They  told  me  to  do  it !  They  told  me  to  do 
it!"  shrieked  the  pitiful,  unnerved  wreck  of  a 
man  as  he  convulsively  opened  and  shut  his  hand. 
"  I  didn't  want  to  do  it!  I  swear  I  didn't  want  to 
do  it !  As  God  is  above,  I  didn't  want  to !  They 
made  me,  they  made  me !  "  he  cried,  his  words 
swiftly  becoming  an  unintelligible  jumble  of  mean 
ingless  sounds.  He  stared  at  the  black  muzzle  of 
the  Colt,  frozen  by  terror,  fascinated  by  horror 
and  deadened  by  despair.  The  watch  ticked  on 
in  maddening  noise,  for  his  every  sense  was  now 
most  acute,  beating  in  upon  his  brain  like  the 
strokes  of  a  hammer.  Then  the  foreman  glanced 
quickly  at  it.  The  gun  in  Tex's  hand  leaped  up, 
but  not  quickly  enough,  and  a  spurt  of  smoke 
enveloped  his  face  as  he  fell.  The  Orphan 
stepped  back,  dropping  the  Colt  into  its  holster. 

390 


Tex  Milliard's  Mistake 


"  The  courage  of  despair!"  he  whispered. 
"  But  I'm  glad  he  died  game,"  he  slowly  added. 
Then  he  suddenly  buried  his  face  in  his  hands: 

Helen!  "  he  cried.     "  Helen— forgive  me!  " 


u 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

THE    GREAT    HAPPINESS 

THE  town  was  rapidly  losing  sharpness  of 
detail,  for  the  straggling  buildings  were 
becoming  more   and  more   blurred  and 
were  growing  into  sharp  silhouettes  in  the  increas 
ing  dusk,  and  the  sickly  yellow  lights  were  grow 
ing  more  numerous  in  the  scattered  windows. 

Helen  moved  about  the  dining-room  engaged 
in  setting  the  table  and  she  had  just  placed  fresh 
flowers  in  the  vase,  when  she  suddenly  stopped 
and  listened.  Faintly  to  her  ears  came  the  pound 
ing  hoof-beats  of  a  galloping  horse  on  the  well- 
packed  street,  growing  rapidly  nearer  with  por 
tentous  speed.  It  could  not  be  Miss  Ritchie,  for 
there  was  a  vast  difference  between  the  compara 
tively  lazy  gallop  of  her  horse  and  the  pulse-stir 
ring  tattoo  which  she  now  heard.  The  hoof-beats 
passed  the  corner  without  slackening  pace,  and 
whirled  up  the  street,  stopping  in  front  of  the 
house  with  a  suddenness  which  she  had  long  since 

392 


The   Great  Happiness 


learned  to  attribute  to  cowboys.  She  stood  still, 
afraid  to  go  to  the  door,  numbed  with  a  nameless 
fear — something  terrible  must  have  happened, 
perhaps  to  The  Orphan.  The  rider  ran  up  the 
path,  his  spurs  jingling  sharply,  leaped  to  the 
porch,  and  the  door  was  dashed  open  to  show  him 
standing  before  her,  sombrero  in  hand,  his  quirt 
dangling  from  his  left  wrist.  He  was  dusty  and 
tired,  but  the  expression  on  his  face  terrified  her, 
held  her  speechless. 

"Helen!"  he  cried  hoarsely,  driving  her  fear 
deeper  into  her  heart  by  his  altered  voice. 
"  Helen !  "  She  trembled,  and  he  made  a  gesture 
of  hopelessness  and  involuntarily  stepped  toward 
her,  letting  the  door  swing  shut  behind  him.  He 
stood  just  within  the  room,  rigidly  erect,  his  eyes 
meeting  hers  in  the  silence  of  strong  emotion. 
Breathlessly  she  retreated  as  he  advanced,  as  if 
instinct  warned  her  of  what  he  had  to  tell  her, 
until  the  table  was  between  them ;  and  a  spasm  of 
pain  flickered  across  his  face  as  he  noticed  it,  leav 
ing  him  hard  and  stern  again,  but  in  his  eyes  was 
a  look  of  despair,  a  keen  misery  which  softened 
her  and  drew  her  toward  him  even  while  she  feared 
him. 

393 


The   Orphan 


The  silence  became  unbearable  and  at  last  she 
could  endure  it  no  longer.  "What  is  it?"  she 
breathed,  tensely.  "  What  have  you  to  tell  me?  " 

His  eyes  never  wavered  from  her  face,  fasci 
nated  in  despair  of  what  he  must  read  there,  much 
as  he  dreaded  it,  and  he  answered  her  from  be 
tween  set  lips,  much  as  a  man  would  pronounce  his 
own  death  sentence.  "  I  have  broken  my  word." 
he  said,  harshly. 

"  Broken  your  word — to  me?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes." 

Her  face  brightened  and  was  softened  by  a 
child-like  wonder,  for  she  felt  relieved  in  a  degree, 
and  unconsciously  she  moved  nearer  to  him. 
"  What  is  it — what  have  you  done?  " 

He  regarded  her  without  appraising  the  change 
in  her  expression  and  his  reply  was  as  harsh  and 
stern  as  his  first  statement,  accompanied  by  no 
excuses  nor  words  of  extenuation.  "  I  have  killed 
a  man,"  he  said. 

A  shiver  passed  over  her  and  her  eyes  went 
closed  for  a  moment.  The  great  choice  was  at 
hand  now,  and  in  her  heart  a  fierce,  short  battle 
raged;  on  one  side  was  arrayed  her  early  training, 
all  her  teachings,  all  regard  for  the  ideas  of  law 

394 


The  Great  Happiness 


and  order  which  she  had  absorbed  in  the  East, 
where  human  life  was  safeguarded  as  the  first 
necessity ;  and  on  the  other  was  the  Unwritten  Law 
of  the  range  as  exemplified  by  The  Orphan.  Blood, 
and  human  blood,  was  precious,  and  her  early 
environment  fought  bitterly  against  this  regime  of 
direct  justice,  so  startlingly  driven  into  her  mind 
by  his  bold,  cold  admission.  And  then,  he  had 
sinned  in  this  way  again  after  he  had  promised 
her  not  to  do  so.  The  last  thought  dominated  her 
and  she  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  at  him 
hopefully. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said,  eagerly,  "  perhaps  you 
could  not  avoid  it — perhaps  you  were  forced  to 
do  it." 

"  No." 

"  Oh !  "  she  cried.  "  You  did  not — you  did  not 
shoot  him  down  without  warning!  I  know  you 
didn't!" 

"  No,  not  that,"  he  said  slowly.  "  And,  besides, 
this  was  his  third  offense.  Twice  I  have  given  him 
his  life,  and  I  would  have  done  so  again  but  for 
what  I  discovered  after  I  faced  him."  He  paused 
for  a  moment  and  then  continued,  with  more  feel 
ing  in  his  voice,  a  ring  of  victory  and  an  irrepressi- 

395 


The   Orphan 


ble  elation.  u  I  found  that  he  was  the  man  for 
whom  I  have  been  looking  for  fifteen  years,  and 
whom  I  had  sworn  to  kill.  He  killed  my  father, 
killed  him  like  a  dog  and  without  a  chance  for 
life,  hung  him  to  a  tree  on  his  own  land.  And 
when  I  learned  that,  when  he  had  confessed  to  me, 
I  forgot  the  new  game,  I  forgot  everything  but 
the  watch  in  my  hand  slowly  ticking  away  his  life, 
the  time  I  had  given  him  to  make  his  peace  with 
God — and  I  hated  the  slow  seconds,  I  begrudged 
him  every  movement  of  the  hands.  Then  I  shot 
him,  and  I  was  glad,  so  glad — but  oh,  dear!  If 
you — if  you " 

His  voice  wavered  and  broke  and  he  dropped 
to  his  knees  before  her  with  bowed  head  as  she 
came  slowly  toward  him  and  seized  the  hem  of 
her  gown  in  both  hands,  kissing  it  passionately, 
burying  his  face  in  its  folds  like  a  tired  boy  at  his 
mother's  knee. 

Her  eyes  were  filled  with  tears  and  they  rimmed 
her  lashes  as  she  looked  down  on  the  man  at  her 
feet.  Bending,  she  touched  him  and  then  placed 
her  hands  on  his  head,  tenderly  kissing  the  tangled 
hair  in  loving  forgiveness. 

"  Dear,  dear  boy,"  she  murmured  softly. 
396 


The  Great  Happiness 


"  Don't,  dear  heart.  Don't,  you  must  not — oh, 
you  must  not!  Please — come  with  me;  get  up, 
dear,  and  sit  with  me  over  here  in  the  corner ;  then 
you  shall  tell  me  all  about  it.  I  am  sure  you  have 
not  done  wrong — and  if  you  have — don't  you 
know  I  love  you,  boy?  Don't  you  know  I  love 
you?" 

He  stirred  slightly,  as  if  awakening  from  a 
troubled  sleep,  and  slowly  raised  his  head  and 
looked  at  her  with  doubt  in  his  eyes,  for  it  was  so 
much  like  a  dream — perhaps  it  was  one.  But  he 
saw  a  light  on  her  face,  a  light  which  a  man  sees 
only  on  the  face  of  one  woman  and  which  blinds 
him  against  all  other  lights  forever.  Then  it  was 
true,  all  true — he  had  heard  aright !  "  Helen !  " 
he  cried,  "  Helen !  "  and  the  ring  in  his  voice 
brought  new  tears  to  her  eyes.  He  sprang  to  his 
feet,  tense,  eager,  all  his  nerves  tingling,  and  his 
quirt  hissed  through  the  air  and  snapped  a  defi 
ance,  a  warning  to  the  world  as  he  clasped  her  to 
him.  "  I  knew,  I  knew!  "  he  cried  passionately. 
"  In  my  heart  I  knew  you  were  a  thoroughbred!  " 

He  tilted  her  head  back,  but  she  laughed  low 
with  delight  and  eluded  him,  leading  him  to  a 
chair,  the  chair  he  had  occupied  on  the  occasion 

397 


The  Orphan 


of  his  first  visit,  and  then  drew  a  low,  rough  foot- 
rest  beside  him  and  seated  herself  at  his  feet,  her 
elbows  resting  on  his  knees  and  her  chin  in  her 
hands.  He  looked  down  into  the  upturned  face 
and  then  glanced  swiftly  about  the  homelike  room 
and  back  to  her  face  again.  She  snuggled  tightly 
against  his  knees  and  waited  patiently  for  his  story. 

He  sighed  contentedly  and  touched  her  cheek 
reverently  and  then  told  her  all  of  the  story  of  Tex 
Williard,  from  the  very  beginning  to  the  very  end, 
from  the  time  he  had  seen  Tex  bending  over  one 
of  his  father's  cows  to  the  last  scene  in  the  thicket. 
When  he  had  finished,  Helen  took  his  head  between 
her  hands,  pressing  it  warmly  as  she  nodded  wisely 
to  show  that  she  understood.  He  looked  deep 
into  her  eyes  and  then  suddenly  bent  his  head  until 
his  lips  touched  her  ear:  "  Helen,  darling,"  he 
whispered,  "  how  long  must  I  wait?  " 

"  Why,  you  scamp !  "  she  exclaimed,  teasingly, 
threatening  to  draw  away  from  him.  "  You 
haven't  even  told  me  that  you  love  me !  " 

He  pressed  her  hands  tightly  and  laughed  aloud, 
joyously,  filled  with  an  elated,  effervescent  glad 
ness  which  surged  over  him  in  waves  of  delight: 
"  Haven't  I  ?  Oh,  but  you  know  better,  dear. 

398 


The  Great  Happiness 


Many  and  many  times  I  have  told  you  that,  and 
in  many  ways,  and  you  knew  it  and  understood. 
You  never  doubted  it,  and  I  hope,"  he  added  seri 
ously,  "  that  you  never  will." 

"  I  never  will,  dear." 

They  did  not  hear  Grace  Ritchie  in  the  kitchen, 
did  not  hear  her  quiet  step  as  it  crossed  the 
threshold  and  stopped,  and  then  tiptoed  to  the 
rear  door  and  sped  lightly  around  the  house  to 
the  street,  and  down  it  to  where  Mrs.  Shields  and 
Mary  were  walking  toward  the  house.  They  did 
not  know  that  half  an  hour  had  passed  since  the 
coming  of  the  quiet  step  and  the  three  women,  and 
that  the  supper  was  hopelessly  ruined.  They  knew 
nothing — and  Everything:  they  had  learned  the 
Great  Happiness. 


THE    END 


399 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 


BAR-20 


With  illustrations  by  F.  E.  Schoonover  and  N.  C.  Wyeth 
Cloth,  decorative,  I2mo.      Price  $1.50 

The  doings  of  the  famous  outfit  of 
Bar— 20,  an  old-time  ranch  in  Arizona,  are 
here  recorded. 

Chief  among  the  "bunch"  was  one 
Hopalong  Cassidy,  whose  peaceful  inten 
tions  somehow  or  other  were  always  getting 
him  into  trouble.  His  adventures  and 
those  of  his  boon  companions,  "Red" 
Connors  and  "Buck"  Peters,  etc.,  etc.,  make 
"sure  good  reading." 

THE  CLEVELAND  NEWS  says:  "  The  Author 
knows  old  Arizona  as  Harte  knew  Poverty  Row  and 
Poker  Flat."  THE  CLEVELAND  PLAIN-DEALER 
says :  "  After  the  style  of  Mr.  Wister.  .  .  an  enter 
taining,  vigorous,  virile  book"  THE  BUFFALO 
SUNDAY  COURIER  says:  " A  good,  breezy  story, 
wholesome  and  fresh  as  the  wind  swept  plains  it  describes, 
with  plenty  of  heart  interest  to  vary  it."  THE  ST. 
PAUL  PRESS  says:  "  There  is  a  spirit  and  tang  that 
stirs  the  blood  and  the  changing  pictures  are  painted  with 
palpitating  verbal  pigments  which  almost  dazzle  the  reader 
with  their  brilliancy  and  effectiveness. 9 ' 

THE  OUTING  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

35  and  37  W.  3ist  Street,  New  York 


Set  «/>,   electrotyped,  printed  and  bound  at 
THE  OUTING  PRESS 

Deposit,  New    York 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 


Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


14May5lKW 
U'SILU 


UOctSILU 


OCT121966  3 


JUL241967 


JUL12'67-1PM 

LOAN  DEPT. 


LD  21-100m-ll)'49(B7146sl6)476 


3 


YB  68/20 


